


The Moon's Breath

by orphan_account



Category: Tales of Series, Tales of Zestiria
Genre: -abandons fic-, -runs away-, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, Depression, Edna is a gr8 older sister, F/F, Help, I would orphan it but I'm afraid, Lailah is mom, M/M, Mikleo is v sad, Past Child Abuse, Pls don't read this it's so bad -sobs-, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rosali isn't main ship but it'll be there bc I'm trash, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, What's new?, also, rose is gay, sorey is oblivious, this fic is dead bc I don't like it sorry not sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-08-21 18:09:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8255378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It’s funny how time tics.It doesn’t stop for anyone, no matter how much they need a break, no matter how much they need to breathe. Even if the world exploded, and the universe disappeared, it would keep going. Somehow, somewhere. It doesn’t matter if you want to live, it doesn’t matter if you want to die. It doesn’t matter if you are an immortal, or god himself, it will never stop.I’m rambling aren’t I? Ah, well I guess Sorey always did tell me that my poetry was bad.But, before I shut up, since I’m not supposed to come into the story just yet, I have a question.Have you ever wanted time to stop ticking?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I haven't written a fic in over a year and I haven't written a multi chapter fic in even longer than that!  
> ...  
> I'm going to die.
> 
> That being said I would like to improve my writing so all constructive criticism is welcome!  
> Also, I don't have a clear plan as to where I'm going with this so suggestions are welcome :)  
> Just comment stuff, I'll literally love anything you say xD  
> (And yes this chapter is very short, it's just an introduction to see if people have any interest.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Authors note 10/24/16  
> These first couple of chapters are pretty cringe, but I suggest you bear through them and continue on reading. When I started writing this I hadn't written anything in AGES and therefor completely forgot how to word. It get's better, and yes it does get angsty and interesting.

I unconsciously let out a long groan, which turns into a long whine.

  
“Owe!” I yelp, as an umbrella hits me over the head. I look up at the culprit. Small, but terrifying.

  
“No complaining. It’s your fault you suck at math anyway.”

  
I lean back in my comfy chair. This sucks, Enda’s actually making us get work done in our study sessions for once.  
“How is that my fault?! It’s not like I don’t try I’m just not natural at it!” I huff, before turning to my paper full of confusing numbers that all blur together and _dammit why me._

  
“Oi Sorey, isn’t that kid in one of your classes? The one with white hair that almost never shows up to school,” I glance up, blessing the gods or whatever I can pray to for Zaveid changing the subject.

  
“Yeah, and he actually came to school today. It was actually pretty impressive, the teacher called on him a lot, probably trying to embarrass him, but he got everything right.”

  
“Well I’ll be damned. Guess pretty boys’ just too smart to come to school.” I purse my lips. He was kind of treated as a mystery person around school, no one knows anything about him, and he never talks to anyone. He’s (or, I assume him to be) albino, with strange violet eyes and wavy hair that falls down to his lower back, even when tied up in a ponytail. He always looked presentable, and I personally think he’s fairly attractive.

  
“Next time he shows up I am going to talk to him, if it’s the last thing I do.”

  
“Go get ‘em!”

  
Lailah claps her hands together “ah, that’s our Sorey!”

  
“Great, wonderful, now get going on those problems. You won’t be going to school anymore if you flunk out.” I pout, there’s no way I would flunk out, I mean I’m not _that bad at math._

  
I look back down at the paper, stare at the numbers, and the numbers stare harder back.

  
Never mind I suck.

 

  
Eventually I escaped from Edna’s wrath by telling her I needed some fresh air over, and over, and over. I mean, it’s getting pretty late, the sun is even beginning to set now. She finally got pissed enough and just kicked me out of (my) house. So now I’m wandering down the street of my little neighborhood. It’s not one of the one’s where everyone’s house looks the same, they’re all different, and most of them are charming. My house is fairly small, but conferrable enough. The exterior was mostly made up of old stone, with vines crawling up the side of it that my mom and I refused to cut no matter how many people ask us to. After all, they were beautiful when they bloomed.

  
I live at home because college is nearby. My mom travels a lot and she’s not home very often, so it works out alright anyway. I stop and look away from my old boots and the cement sidewalk and instead look straight ahead.

  
_Ah, I should’ve known I would end up here._

  
The houses stop and the cement peters into an old stone path, which eventually you can’t see either beneath all of the flowers. The field is massive, and there were wildflowers of all types. As far as I know the field was here long before the houses, and it’s one of the main attractions to the neighborhood.  
I begin to walk again, listening as my empty footsteps turn into crunching on gravel and eventually make hardly any sound at all as I walk through the field. Here, vibrant colors are thrown in your face no matter where you walk. Purples and pinks, yellows and blood reds, but I keep walking, paying the delicate flowers little mind while doing my best to avoid crushing them. The flowers aren’t what I’m here for, after all.  
I stop before a grave. No, it’s not anyone I know I promise. In fact, I know nothing about the person that it belonged to, other than the fact that their name was _"Muse"_ and they lived from _1983-2013_ , died at 30. But today the grave is covered in flowers. I blink at it in surprise, I’ve honestly never seen evidence of anyone coming up here before, much less covering the grave in flowers. Some of the flowers are braided into flower crowns, but all seemed to be wildflowers that the mystery person has taken from the fields.

  
I step around the grave and continue, the uphill slope in the ground become dramatically steeper as I near the edge of the cliff, the crashing waves underneath of me becoming a more obvious and consistent sound.

  
I stop.

  
Oh.

  
I have found two mystery people. Actually, they seemed to be the same person.

  
“Hey!” I yell, cupping my hands around my mouth, as if that really helps to carry sound all that much.

  
He started, and then whipped around to face me. “Hey are you…” I blinked.

  
_Shit, how does someone look so pretty when they are crying?_

  
His hair is a bit messy from the wind blowing, some pieces trailing down in front of his chest and others resting behind his shoulders. His eyes are as purple as I remember, but he’s not wearing his usual lilac glasses that bring out their color even more. Tears are rolling down his cheeks and yet he does not move to wipe them away, and instead cocks his head to the side and makes his long hair shift all around him. The moon has conveniently placed itself behind him, making his hair glow and the rest of his features shine.

 

  
_**Let me tell you the story of how the sun loved the moon so much, he died every night to let her breath.**_


	2. Nice People are Terrifying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all in Mikleo's POV, as will most of the chapters be from here on out. The only times I will ever switch to Sorey will probably be when shit is about to hit the fan, so pay attention to that ;)

_Eh?_

I stare at the boy standing before me, my back now to the cliff and all previous intentions forgotten. He’s staring at me back, having cut off his own words and now letting his jaw hang slack. I tilt my head at him, confused as to the expression he’s making. _What? What’s wrong? Is my hair tousled, are my clothes fun…_

_Oh._

_Oh right._

I’m crying. _That’s not something normal happy people do without basis Mikleo,_ reminds my brain seconds too late.

 

I feel the heat rise in my cheeks, raising my hands up to wipe away the tears desperately “A-ah, s-sorry. I… Um… I…”

 

_I was busy wallowing in my own thoughts thinking about jumping off this cliff._

The boy’s face is blank for a moment, fear wells up inside me. _Shit I fucked up and I didn’t even do anything._ “Ah, it’s fine! Everyone cries,” he explains, flashing me a ridiculously animated smile that sends me into a brief shock. He… wasn’t going to ask? “Ah, by the way, were you the one who left the flowers? I’ve never seen anyone do that before.”

              I’ve literally known this guy for less than a minute, and he’s already seen me cry and sent me into shock twice. _Great._ “I- um…” I take a deep breath. _You’re brave, nothing is wrong._ My chest deflates and I allow my eyes to flutter back open, looking bravely into the man’s vibrant green ones. “Yes, I did.”

 

              The man blinks for a moment, looking perplexed before he seems to piece things together, “ah, did you know her?” His eyes become sympathetic, far too sympathetic for someone I’ve never met before, and as far as I know had no relationship with my mother.

 

“Yes, she was my mother,” it was blunt, blunter than I intended. But, I would rather the man think that I’m heartless and stoic than emotional and petty.

             

              Now his face visibly pales. _Seriously, how easy is this guy to read?_ But somehow, emotion seemed to suite his face. “Your… Mom?” He pauses and appears to think _._ His face softened yet again, “I… Want to apologize but that won’t help, will it?”

             

              “No it won’t.”

 

              His face falls, and then briefly scrunches up in clear pain and his eyes became glittery and sad. _Christ it makes me want to go give him a hug, and he’s not even the one in mourning._

 

              “Ah!” I jump at his sudden enthusiasm. _It’s getting dark, please stop talking and go away_ , I beg silently to myself. But no, of course he doesn’t _go away_ instead he does the total opposite and up to me, shoving his face into mine and allowing his glowing green eyes take up my view. Green eyes aren’t uncommon, but these weren’t normal. Most green eyes have hints of brown, or other duller colors, but not these. They were as green as all of the leaves in a rainforest, and sparkled like the sun. “You’re Mikleo, right?”

 

              My heart squeezes, and I know my face has lost some of its composure. Unwelcomed anxiety fills my chest. _How does he know me? Where does he know me from? Has he even seen me do something stupid?_

“We’re in some of the same classes at the university.”

 

              “Oh, _fantastic._ ” I realize just how much my tone is dripping with sarcasm only after the words come out of my mouth. I’m tired of this, I want him to leave me alone now. I back away from him, regaining my personal space which apparently this man doesn’t know exists. _When was the last time I was even that close to someone anyway?_

              He isn’t fazed though, instead he chuckles. “Sarcasm suites you better than tears,” I choke. _Who the fuck is this guy?_

 

              “I-um, thank you?” I manage to go back to awkwardly stuttering.

 

              “I’m Sorey,” to my bewilderment, he reaches out his hand, “if you need help with anything let me know. You’re in a lot of my history based classes, right? I would love someone to talk to about history, none of my friends get it,” he pouts, and it’s actually kind of cute. Seeing I’m pinned against a cliff, I reach out my hand and grab his with nothing more reasonable to do. Even though I’m wearing gloves, I can still feel his hand’s warmth and it scares me how utterly foreign it is. Sorey beams at me, and I let my face soften, just a little.

 

              All in one motion he let’s go of my hand at takes off running, waving back to me as he leave’s, “SEE YOU AT SCHOOL!!!” he yells before finally turning back around (only after almost falling on his face). I flinch at the innocent flowers being crushed in his path, all victims to his over-enthusiasm.

 

For once I don’t feel unbearably empty or achingly afraid.

* * *

 

I stare down at my schedule. Its unsmooth able crumples throw shadows across it that make it difficult to read, and honestly at this point I’m not sure how it hasn’t torn. If there’s one thing I don’t appreciate its large crowds of people, and unfortunately for me that’s all Hyland University is. As such, this poor like schedule has been nervously squeezed and crumpled uncountable times. It doesn’t help that I have unusual features and although I have a quiet aura, for some reason people seem to find me curious and are often drawn to me, giving me unwanted attention.

“MIKLEO!!”

 

“O-owe!” Suddenly I’m being slammed into from behind, my backpack (and the laptop and books that are inside it, unfortunately for my attacker) serves me as a pillow. And now, as a result, even more people are staring at me. Great, _fantastic._ “Sorey,” I attempt to say calmly, it comes out as more of a hiss as a result. _“What the hell are you doing?”_

He untangles my arms from around my neck and flashes me one of his smiles. “You showed up.”

 

              “Yeah I did, because if I miss anymore classes I’m screwed.” For some unbeknownst reason he laughed, and wow, did he have a nice laugh. It was far too genuine to be from such a small comment, and it made me want to burst into giggles too. I felt my expression unwillingly relax, even as he stopped laughing and just smiled at me. Until today, I didn’t know people actually did that thing when they closed their eyes and let a smile take up their _entire face_.

             

              Three people walk up behind Sorey. A short petit girl with dirty blonde hair that seemed to get even dirtier as it reached the tips. She wore strange missed-matched clothes, she which she somehow manages to pull off just fine. A tall buff looking man with long bleach blonde hair and green tips is also with him, and a blindingly elegant young woman with thick straight hair (which is somehow an even lighter bleach blonde than the former) that reached the back of her knees, and ended in red tips. I unconsciously tilt my head at them, a strange group.

 

              “So, Sorey, how did you manage to become buddy-buddy with this guy since last night?” The petit blonde said, her voice dripping with ridiculous amounts of sarcasm and a befitting smirk spreading across her face.

             

              “Oh! I met him when you kicked me out of my house.”

 

              “She… Kicked you out of your own ho-“

 

              “T-that’s not important!” Sorey shoots back, desperately interrupting me. “Anyway, everyone this is Mikleo. Mikleo this is Edna, Zaveid and Lailah. They’re all my friends!” He points to each one as he said their name, and I repeat all of their names several times in my head for good measure.

             

              “Nice to meet you Meebo.”

 

              “M-meebo?”

             

              A giant smirk, “Meebo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for my inconsistent pacing, I'm trying to get back in the groove ;-;
> 
> Appreciate the sweet fluffiness while you can :,)
> 
> As always constructive crit., suggestions and all comments are appreciated! <3 (I don't have a beta reader so I am 101% sure there are grammar errors.)


	3. This Isn't a Normal University AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was realllyyy unhappy with the last chapter, which is why I'm updating this so fast. Hopefully this is better >:C

              “So,” I inquire to the band of friends behind me, briefly sparing the trio a glance. “First impressions?”

 

              “You’d have to be blind as a bat if you didn’t think he was drop dead gorgeous,” deadpans Zaveid. I flash him a nervous smile before facing forward again, focusing on weaving through the throng of students. I honestly couldn’t help but agree. Mikleo has incredibly fine pale skin, despite the fact that most of it seems to be covered all the time. I assume this has something to do with him being albino, which makes you prone to burning and skin cancer, but I still wish he would _at least_ take off the gloves. They were stylish black leather gloves that seemed to hug his hands perfectly. They had clearly been worn many a times, as I had noted that they were covered in creases and wrinkles. His hair was always pulled back perfectly, given the two pieces he always left on either side of his face. It’s fluffy and rolls down his back and over his shoulders, constantly shifting when he moved. He was pacing head of me now, his schedule now tucked away as we all headed towards the rare assembly, holding a perfect elegant air around him. The crunching of our feet over stones in gravel lost underneath the millions of other noises around us.

 

              “You should marry him.”

 

              “E-edna, he’s a guy,” I explain, trying to point out what Edna had missed.

 

              “So? He’s still hot, even if he’s not my type,” I sigh, knowing arguing with Edna gets you absolutely nowhere in life. Actually, I’m pretty sure it makes you go _backwards._

“He’s not really my type either, go for it Sorey,” Zaveid said, now nudging me painfully in the side with his unusually sharp elbow.

 

              “Zaveid I’m straight.” Apparently, that only earns me snickers, even Lailah had to put a dainty pale hand over her mouth to hide a giggle. I briefly consider why, before once again looking ahead, still taking precautions over not tripping over any of the other students (or my own feet, for that matter).

              “But,” Zaveid continues, his voice and facial expression now serious enough for my steps to unconsciously slow. “There’s something funny about him. I mean it’s like, yanno-“

 

              “He’s like a Siren,” Edna cuts him off helpfully. “He’s too friendly, too pretty. Get close to him and you’ll get hurt, weather he means to hurt you or not.” I stop, staring and her genuinely concerned expression with utter bewilderment. Mikleo? Hurt me? “You trust people to easily Sorey, you barely know him. In fact, do you even have his number, do you know where he lives?”

 

              Hurt blooms in my chest, I know Edna only meant the best, but it would still be nice if she trusted my judgment. “I-“

 

“Sorey,” Lailah’s gentle voice now interrupts. “All roses have thorns. Be gentle, or you’ll find yourself shedding away pedal after pedal until only ugly thorns are left.” She flashes me a motherly smile before pacing on ahead, showing off her picture perfect elegance and grace as she glides around people politely.

 

Zaveid scratches the back of his head as he continues forward. “Leave it to Lailah to talk in rhymes and riddles.”

 

* * *

 

I have been at school for a total of five minutes and I’m already desperate to leave. Sorey was chattering with his friends behind me, and I could pick up the varying degrees of sarcastic tones in their voices. My wrists were already starting to throb and my thighs were burning as if they felt the need to scream _“you are an incapable human being who can’t cope with anything.”_ Of course, I already knew that. I’m a logical person and I’m aware of how deep I have fallen.

 

Ah, let’s not talk about that now though.

 

The school has called an emergency assembly, everyone is absolutely required to go. I was planning on coming to school anyway today, figuring it might serve as a good distraction. I perk up as Lailah suddenly passes me, the very picture of grace as people seem to unconsciously break apart to let her through.

 

_Should’ve been born in medieval times, would’ve made a good queen._

“What do you think the assemblies about?” I nearly jump out of my skin at the voice, spinning to my right side to see a brunette wearing a very contemplative expression, jade green eyes alight with curiosity. I allow myself to stare at him for as long as socially acceptable, taking in his expression and the features that went along with it.

 

“No clue.” I turn back forward and pick up my pace, weaving through the crowd almost as easily as Lailah and loosing Sorey in the midst of it. I finally stop before the auditorium, people separating to move around me, some giving me irate glances for take up a couple more precious seconds of their human life. I roll my eyes before continuing into the auditorium, positioning myself along the wall instead of sitting, not in the mood to fight for a chair. “This school is too big for this auditorium,” I mumble under my breath. Not, that the auditorium was small by any means.

 

“Hello Hyland University,” rings a clear voice. I turn to watch an out-of-breath Sorey stumble into the auditorium, walking up to position himself beside me. “I’m Ms. Maltran, I’m here to inform you all that all the schools and universities in this area will be closing for a short period of time. I am not allowed to give you details as of now, but I am aloud to tell you to be careful and to try and not stray far from your homes.” I raise an eyebrow as mumbles and gossip already begins to flower throughout the auditorium, “we do not expect your safety to be threatened, we are simply taking precautions. More information should be sent out to you by email from the head of the university, thank you.” The intimidating woman left the stage, auburn hair bouncing behind her and heals clacking and echoing around the silent walls as she left.

 

“Holy shit,” Sorey whispers.

 

“Wow I didn’t know you could curse,” I quip back, feeling no less unsettled than when I first walked in the room. “Whatever’s happening probably is a threat to our safety considering they shut all the schools down in the area.” I sigh as I observe and state what was already clear to everyone else in the room. “But it’s probably not too bad, if they didn’t think they could handle the situation they would elaborate more.”

 

“U-uhuh.”

 

I can feel a smirk spreading across my face “What~ you afraid?” Sorey’s eyes widen and his face goes red at the suggestion. Not that I really blame him, any normal person would at least be concerned about this situation.

 

“No, just bewildered and a bit curious,” came the surprisingly clear answer. I raised an eyebrow at him.

 

“You’re strange, you know that?”

 

A guilty laugh, “Yeah, that’s not the first time I’ve heard that.”

 

* * *

 

 

I find myself staring intently at my phone as I walk home, the white screen glowing too brightly beneath the already setting sun. The contacts list was depressingly short, mostly consisting of past part time bosses and past co-workers, but after a lot of begging from Sorey’s end I had finally given the man my contact information, and I am absolutely sure I am going to regret it.

 

I nearly drop my phone as it starts vibrating violently in my hand. I glare at it as if it was all its fault, and then look down at the contact calling me expecting it to be Sorey.

 

“Run.”

 

…

 

Oh.

 

I stare at my phone for a moment weighing pros and cons before finally opting to slide my thumb across it and answer.

 

“MIKLEO SWEETHEART, how are you?” Came the voice from the other side of the device. The voice was sickeningly sweet, doing nothing to cover up its manipulative intent.

 

“You calling wouldn’t happen to have something to do with all of the schools in the area shutting down, would it?” I stop walking and let my tone become playful and sweet, and as a bonus a facedly pleased grin spreads across my face.

 

“Oh, so perceptive. Mikleo doesn’t play around,” the voice wasn’t singing anymore. It was still teasing but it was low now with a darker and more serious undertone. I unconsciously raise an eyebrow, practically feeling his sly grin from through the phone.

 

              “Answers, now.”

 

              “Hmmm~… Okay. I guess I wouldn’t want my play thing to die,” the words earned him no reaction. “Mikleo,” he said, his tone now fully serious. “Some criminals have wandered into your area. They’re not that impressive nor clever, but they’re messy and find great fun in hurting people. You can handle them if you know that they’re there, but don’t be surprised when people start turning up dead in unpleasant ways.”

 

              The phone beeps at my three times to tell me the call had ended, but my lips are pursed together so hard that they’ve turned white, and my hands are clutching the phone too tightly.

 

              My phone buzzes yet again with a text, this time from a much more pleasant contact name.

 

              _“Sorey” 4:30 pm_

_Lailah and the others are all at my house, want to come over since there’s no schoolwork?_

My expression softens, maybe something good is finally going to come out of my mess-of-a-life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you thought this was going to be a normal university AU, my bad, but I don't know how to write those. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	4. How Fast Can a Switch Flip?

I stare down at my phone, my stomach churning from what I thought was a not-so-risky text to Mikleo, but now I am questioning that since my heart won’t stop pounding and I can’t stop staring at my screen.

 

              “So Sheps, I know you’ve always made friends pretty easily but the fact that you made friends with the weird mystery boy in less than a day is pretty impressive,” Zaveid inquires, briefly taking my attention away from the taunting glowing screen.

 

              “A-ah. I don’t know if he considers us friends,” I move to scratch the back of my neck unconsciously, my face twisting into a nervous smile; “I just, I guess I just wanted to make an effort.” I set my hand back down in my lap, my lips purse and tighten and my eyebrows furrow as I stare down at my hands and the phone in them, “he looked… So lonely.”

 

              And indeed he had, standing on a cliff crying completely silent tears. The image is still totally clear as if I was still standing there, watching the tears stream down his face, drops flicking from his pretty white lashes as he fluttered them and the two pieces of hair he allows to hang loose from his ponytail sticking to his cheeks. His eyes were empty, lacking emotion and yet somehow simultaneously throbbing with fear and pain and emotions I ultimately couldn’t understand.

 

              “You’re too soft,” scoffs Edna, but she adds no more afterwards and continues sipping tea out of her huge mug.

 

              I nearly drop my phone as it buzzes in my hands, I stare at my phone and I must pull a strange expression because Zaveid gives me a low whistle.

 

              “ _Mikleo” 4:33 PM_

_Not like I’ve got any plans, give me your address and I’ll come over._

_“Mikleo” 4:34_

_If that’s really alright._

I allow a big smile to overcome my face which only earns me another whistle from Zaveid, higher pitched now, “looks like Sorey’s new boyfriend texted him back,” I roll my eyes, used to Zaveid teasing me about anyone I talk to being my lover, since apparently he refuses to allow me to be single. Instead, I choose to text him back my address and reassurance: “ _of course it’s alright, why would I invite you otherwise?”_

“You said you met him when I kicked you out of the house, didn’t you? Does that mean he lives near here?” I blink at her, and then ponder this.

 

              “Not sure. You know that big flower field at the end of the neighborhood? He was there. Apparently the grave on that cliff is his mothers,” my voice grows quieter with the last sentence, and I am filled with something not-quite-sympathy but also not something as unfair as pity. “He didn’t really tell me anything about her, I didn’t pry.”

 

              “Sorey, you’re too thoughtful,” Edna is suddenly standing in front of me, and her umbrella had hits my head before I even have time to process how she moved so quickly. “You should be more pushy sometimes, stupid Sorey.” I flash her a guilty smile, but I am saved by the doorbell vibrating throughout the house.

 

* * *

 

              I shift back and forth on my feet for a solid minute and a half before finally working up the courage to press the doorbell. I wait a moment, and finally I hear footsteps. It takes me a second to process that the footsteps are _running_ not _walking_ like a normal person’s and I step out of the reach of the opening door just in time, it whipping open just an inch away from my face.

 

              “Long time no see,” I can feel the smirk tingling on my lips, “so excited to see me you almost break my nose, huh?” To my honest surprise, the brunette flushes. His darker skin doesn’t make it utterly obvious, but his flickering jade eyes and nervous air do.

 

              “S-sorry, I didn’t…” he trails off, I blink at him in confusion, which only seems to make him more flustered. “J-just come inside,” he opens the door for me and I oblige to his request, stepping inside. The first thing I notice is the pile of shoes at the entrance. “Ah… If you wouldn’t mind could you take your shoes off?”

             

              I purse my lips, because _dammit the one day I don’t wear socks._

              Oh well, it’s not like anyone’s going to get a good look at the bottom of my feet anyway.

 

              I kick off my short black combat boots, and then fix them so they sit neatly against the wall (unlike the other shoes, which are all in one big pile). Backing away, I turn back toward Sorey, now noticing that I am a good two inches shorter than him. Which is just a little bit depressing, considering he’s really not all that tall looking.

 

              Sorey grabs my gloved hand, dragging me through the hall and tugging me into the living room. There sits two comfy looking chairs on one side, a large sofa on the other and a table in the middle. Laying upon the sofa is Zaveid, he’s on his side with his elbow propped up underneath of him, smirking at me. I roll my eyes, allowing them to pass over Edna (who is holding a mug that must be the size of her head) and let them roll over the entire room, examining the maroon walls and skimming the wood floors.

 

              Lailah steps out of what I presume to be the kitchen, since she’s holding a mixing bowl and a spoon and sporting a lovely red apron. “Ah, welcome!” She says, giving me a sweet smile as she continues churning the spoon in the bowl.

 

              “Lailah’s baking cookies!” Sorey explains helpfully, beaming at me like a five year old receiving freshly baked cookies from his mom.

 

              Actually, that’s basically what’s happening.

             

              “Oh? You like to bake?” I ask, turning towards back towards Lailah.

             

              “Ah, yes,” she finally drops the spoon, offering me her full attention, “Sorey also can’t cook, so I end up making him things so he doesn’t end up eating a bunch of junk food,” she giggles innocently. I catch Sorey looking down at the floor guiltily at her remarks, “but I guess cookies aren’t exactly healthy either.”

 

              “Can you cook Mikleo?” His eyes are begging, they are practically screaming _“please say no so I don’t look like an idiot.”_

I just give him a sweet smile, “yes I can. I live alone, so I don’t really have much of a choice. Although, I will admit that baking isn’t really my specialty.” Sorey’s face falls, but then brightens up again, along with Lailahs.

 

              “Why don’t you help (me/Lailah) cook?” They both exclaim at the same time. Caught off guard I am suddenly being dragged into the kitchen. Not that I have anything to complain about, at least I have something useful to do now.

 

              “Looks like poor Meebo’s been exiled to the kitchen, he’s doomed. Dommed-leo.”

* * *

 

              I finally sit back down on the couch.

 

              Lailah and I ended up making an entire feast. Lailah finished baking the cookies, and then had moved on to help me with actual food. Before we knew it, it had gotten out of hand. Our week points and good points clashing perfectly, we created a close to perfect meal. Zaveid and Sorey are leaning over the table, practically drooling at the very sight of it. The TV is on low in the background, a news reporter droning on about silly things in order to take up time in-between the bigger stories. “Holy shit you guys, I haven’t even tasted this yet and it’s delicious.” I roll my eyes at the green haired oddball, choosing to ignore the fact that we are eating in the living room and not the _perfectly good dining room._

 

              “I’m going to eat it all if you guys don’t hurry,” Edna says as she’s already shoving food onto her plate, I question if her small body can actually consume that much without bursting.

 

              “Hurry up Mikleo or you’re not even going to be able to eat you own food!” Sorey’s mouth is full, and the words come out mushy but understandable. I wave at him absently.

 

              “I already ate,” it isn’t entirely a lie, I had eaten lunch, just not dinner. The sight of food currently makes my stomach churn with buried anxiety, and I’m positive if I eat anything I’ll throw up. _I’ll eat when I get home._ I admit that I don’t always take the best care of myself, but I at least make the effort to eat, I learned what not eating does to someone the hard way.

 

              “Awee Mikleo, you’re telling me you made all of this and you aren’t even going to eat any of it? How sweet,” pouts Lailah, fluttering her lashes and sticking out her lip ever so slightly, I briefly think I see tears in her eyes, I wave away the thought.

             

              I look up, deciding I can’t sit still and need something to do. “Mind if I wander around the house?” I ask, my eyes locking with Sorey’s hopefully.

 

              “If you’re really not going to eat anything, then sure I don’t see why not,” smiles the boy. I stand up (perhaps too quickly) and begin my exploration.

 

* * *

 

 

              “I like him, he’s a hard worker,” whispers Lailah fondly to no one in particular. My eyes are still locked on the door Mikleo had just walked out of, briefly wondering why he seemed slightly bothered before he walked out of the room. “Perhaps he’s a bit too…” Lailah trails off, looking at the ceiling and seeming to think.

 

              “Too what?” Zaveid asks after swallowing his mouthful of food.

 

              Lailah simply shakes her head, “mm, nothing,” she hums gently. There’s silence, and then suddenly it’s filled with music. It’s slow, hesitant and faltering at first, but soon the piano thrums throughout the entire house. It’s a sad song, it’s slow but not quiet, instead powerful and full of emotion and vigor. The entire living room pauses.

 

              “Well damn, guess little Meebo found your piano Sorey,” Edna says finally breaking the ice, but the room only falls back to silence to listen. The song keeps getting faster, and when it reaches the end it starts over, the beginning clearer than the time before. I stand up, not entirely aware of what I’m doing, and begin my walk towards the room where I know the piano is placed.

 

* * *

 

              Leaning against the door watching Mikleo gives the song a whole new feeling. I find my hands shaking uncontrollably, and although I can’t see Mikleo’s face I can tell he is far away as he restarts the song yet again. I watch as his shoulders begin to shake and his entire body begins to wrack. My shoeless footsteps are light on the floor as I walk up behind the broken man who is now shaking like a lost teenager. I wrap my arms around his waist and burry my face into the back of his neck. His finger’s slip and hit a wrong note, and his entire body jerks. I don’t let go.

 

              “What are you doing?” His voice is dangerously soft, too controlled and emotionless. His cold gloves dig into my warm hands, attempting to pry them off. “Sorry for using you piano without permission, I was testing to see if it was in tune and got carried away.” Sharp, cold, final.

 

              I unravel my arms from around his waist and lift my head. He’s still looking down at the keys, and yet for some reason I feel like I should be terrified of the lonely man.

 

              Yet I’m not.

 

              I touch my hand to his shoulder before beginning my exit, “it’s fine, the piano was beginning to get lonely without my mother home anyway.”

 

              _Her songs aren’t nearly as sad as that,_ are the words I dare not say.


	5. Blood is Iron, Sorey.

Everyone stares at me as I walk back into the living room, especially when they notice Mikleo’s presence is not alongside me, and yet the piano isn’t playing. I sit myself down on the couch, and flash everyone a pleasant smile, allowing them to continue their conversation.

 

              His voice was so cold.

 

              Deathly controlled, choking and not in the least bit wavering. It was a terrifying though, considering just second before he had been shaking, and yet the second I wrapped my arms around him it was like I had flipped a switch. Perhaps it was a bit of a forward move for someone I had just met, but a normal reaction to an unwelcome touch would be being flustered, or pushing someone away. Thinking back on it now, Mikleo never tried to touch me, and when I touched him he always appeared uncomfortable. I frown, Lailah seems to catch it and looks at me with concern.

 

              “Is Mikleo alr-"

 

              “Sorry about that,” everyone in the room jumps at the clear voice, no one had heard the albino’s footsteps, “I got distracted,” he flashes a nervous smile, tilting his head at us sheepishly. One would’ve never guessed that just a minute ago he had an air about him that seemed like it could send just about anyone running the other way with their tail behind their legs.

 

              “What song was that? It was very pretty,” Lailah says innocently, staring straight into Mikleo’s face, which is still at a cock with eyes closed.

 

              Mikleo straightens himself out, allowing his eyes to flutter open. They’re devoid of emotion, as if somebody had whipped a messy slate completely clean, “My mother wrote it.”

 

              “How did your mother die?” Everyone turns to glare at Zaveid for being so insensitive, even Edna.

 

              “Suicide.”

 

              The room falls silent. Mikleo’s already walking over to take his spot in the last empty chair. He sits down elegantly with all too controlled movements, crossing his legs politely in front of him. “Why is a long story, but she was not a coward,” his voice is borderline soft, borderline threatening and honestly it’s a tone I have never heard before.

 

              “I’m sure she was,” Lailah’s voice was patient, soft, like the mother she’s well known for behaving like. There’s a nagging feeling in my stomach that it’s _not that simple_ , but I ignore it, deciding that the grief over losing one’s own mother is most likely unbearable. Especially to something like suicide. I personally can barely stand my mother being away on business trips for so long.

             

              Suddenly Edna is diving for the TV remote, Lailah opens her mouth, clearly preparing to scold the petit blonde but as she turns the volume up her intentions become clear.

 

              _“Erratic murders are popping up all over the area. The murder’s motive is unknown, but it is expected to be pleasure killing due to gruesome deaths and unconnected…”_

We all stare as the TV begins showing heavily censored pictures of men, women and children all dead in overdone and gruesome ways while the reporter drones on.

 

 “I can’t believe they’re actually releasing all of this to the public,” we all turn towards the voice. Mikleo has a white eyebrow raised and his lips are pulled into a thin line. I pivot all the way around back towards him, not wanting to spare another look at the TV.

 

              “Maybe it got so bad we would’ve found out no matter what they did, I mean look at that _death count,_ ” I reply, my voice bordering on concern and then evolving into mild panic. Mikleo nods in agreement and touches his hand to his chin, appearing to be thinking.

 

              “Perhaps.”

 

              “I suppose we know why all the schools were closed down,” Edna’s voice is filled with unmistakable disgust, “What a distasteful way to kill, the damn murder could at least be fucking smart about it.” Everyone in the room had been thinking it, Edna had just taken the honor of saying it aloud.

 

              Mikleo uncrosses his legs and stands elegantly, “Well, I’m going to go home. It’s already ten and I don’t really feel like walking home in the pitch black with a psychopath on the loose,” everyone immediately grabs their phone or looks at their watch. Zaveid lets out another long whistle.

 

              I laugh as a smile overtakes my face, “Time flies when you’re having fun I suppose!” I can swear Mikleo’s expression softens ever so slightly, but he turns on his heels and walks away, exiting my view for the night completely with only so much as a wave.

 

* * *

 

              The house is so quiet, it’s too quiet. I’ve never been one for silence, I’ve always loved people. All people are wonderful, all lives are valuable and I will never be able to get enough of them. The thought of so many people being so brutally murdered is horrifying to me. They will never get to walk this Earth again, never be able to experience the world’s wonders or make a success of themselves.

 

              I wish I could fix it all.

 

              I sigh and find myself picking up my phone and opening up Mikleo’s contact, I blink at it. _Calling him is a bad idea, he’s probably still angry about what happened earlier._

So of course I call him.

 

              _“My god Sorey, it’s literally been five minutes. Did you need something?”_ His voice is light and playfully, back to its usual sarcasm. I can help but let out a relieved sigh.

 

              “N-no, it’s just you said you were walking home, I was wondering if you lived nearby?”

 

              A soft laugh, _“You could’ve just texted me that. Yeah, it’s like a fifteen minute walk from your house.”_

“Waaa?! No way! How have we not seen each other before?”

 

              I can hear him sigh from the other end of the phone, _“Honestly, I have no idea. Well, then again you kind of did meet me in that field.”_

“Mmm, I guess. But you would think we would see each other walking from school and such? Then again, I guess you never really shoved up.” I laugh nervously, I still am unsure as to why Mikleo almost never showed up to school.

 

              _“Yeah, I guess so.”_

“Now I wanna see your house!” I exclaim. I’m not sure why, but for some reason ever since I met the unusual man I’ve wanted to learn more about him, I’ve wanted to _understand him._

 

              Not that we’ve known each other for very long.

 

              There’s a snort from the other side of the phone, and I can already imagine his now familiar smirk, _“Well, I’m off tomorrow from my job. I’ll send you the address and you can pop in whenever you want, since you’ll probably find a way to get in even if I don’t let you.”_

I laugh nervously, “Okay, see you tomorrow!”

 

              _“See you tomorrow, but seriously next time you can just text me.”_ His tone is light, and the call falls dead.

 

              _But I wanted to hear your voice._

* * *

 

              It’s been three weeks since I first visited Mikleo’s house. It’s small, cozy and of course meticulously neat. Over the three weeks I’ve learned things about Mikleo, from the fact that he’s a god at making cold sweets, from the fact that certain things can make Mikleo’s personality can change in a heartbeat. He can go from being giggly, sweet and concerned to being cold and terrifying in a matter of milliseconds. Large crowds make him extremely uncomfortable, and he hates the smell of alcohol.

 

              “Sorey, don’t you have something better to do with your time than sitting around my house and stealing my books?” Mikleo is leaning against the doorway to his living room, he’s wearing a loose shirt that falls partly off his shoulder and gray sweatpants. After about week two of me showing up around his house, he seemed to stop caring about looking presentable and started allowing himself to look like he had just rolled out of bed.

 

              Not that he looked bad after he had just rolled out of bed.

 

              “Nope. No school, nothing to do. Lailah, Zaveid and Edna all went to some party and ditched me,” I look up at Mikleo and give him puppy dog eyes, his face immediately softens. His shoeless feet pad across the floor as he makes his way over to me, choosing to sit down beside me on the couch, positioning himself as close as he can without touching me. Touching Mikleo is off limits, that is one of the first things I had learned.

 

              He shifts again, choosing instead to lean on the couch’s armrest and rest his feet by my thigh. “Poor pitiful Sorey, Sorey has no friends. So lonely,” he deadpans helpfully.

 

              “I really don’t have that many friends anymo- OWE!” I yelp as he shoves me hard in the shoulder with his foot.

 

              “Sure you don’t Mr. _The entire student body and all the teachers love me,”_ Mikleo quips, moving to pull his foot away. I do the forbidden and touch Mikleo, in fact I grab his foot. I watch as his face pales considerably, which is impressive considering how translucent his skin is already.

 

              “What are these?”

 

              On his foot are indents in his skin, perfectly round circles. It almost looks as if someone has scooped out pieces of skin on the bottom of his feet.

 

              “Cigarette burns,” his voice is too quiet. He pulls his foot back to him, sitting up now and hugging his knees. “Don’t worry about them, they’re old.”

 

              “Cigarette burns…? But who woul-" Mikleo stands up, too quickly.

 

              “Do you want me to make something for lunch? It’s free choice today,” I frown, but don’t question further.

 

              If there’s one thing I know about Mikleo, it’s that he won’t tell you anything he doesn’t want to.

 

              “Mmmm… What about grilled cheese?” I ask, lighting up. One of my favorite things to do is ask Mikleo for something simple, and see how he makes it one-thousand times better.

 

              He laughs lightly, the fear in his eyes gone, “Sure, whatever you want.”

* * *

 

It’s been a week since the last time I saw Mikleo, his co-worker at his part time job (which is at a coffee shop, by the way) got awfully sick for the entire week, and Mikleo kept taking her shifts, no matter how much everyone insisted that he didn’t overwork himself.

 

              The death count on the murders keeps rising, and there’s still no trace of the criminal. It seems to be stressing everyone out more and more, including myself. I sigh as I finally reach Mikleo’s door. The moon is nearly out, it’s deathly late to just show up to someone’s house uninvited, but I continue knocking and yelling “I’m coming in.”

 

              I walk in and immediately an awful stench fills my nose and spreads through my lungs. It smells like the iron pills my mother, Selene, made me take as a kid, only turned up about twenty notches. I crinkle my nose, “Mikleo?”

 

              A pit of dread settles into my stomach.

 

              I slam the door shut behind me and rush into Mikleo’s bedroom, empty. But, the smell is stronger here. I spin around desperately as if that would somehow help before noticing the bathroom light is on. I run up to the door, “Mikleo? Are you in there?” My voice is filled with panic now, for reasons unknown. “Mikleo, I’m coming in.”

 

              The sight is horrifying.

 

              The walls are splattered with blood, the towels are ruffled and everything appears to be misplaced. In front of me, leaning against the tub is a barely distinguishable boy. White hair is tipped with red, pale face is smeared with blood. His back is leaning against the tub, and his legs are splayed out in front of him, parting at the knee to splay out in different directions.

 

              Silence taunting around me.

 

              From the moment I see it I know it’s a sight I’ll never forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ┻━┻ ︵ ¯\\(ツ)/¯ ︵ ┻━┻


	6. Normal People Would've Called 911

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger warnings, for literally everything.

              I stumble backwards, landing on my ass as I try and comprehend the scene. I’ve never been a fan of violence, and I’ve certainly never come face to face with so much blood. _Vitals, check his vitals._

 

              My hands are shaking as I crawl across the blood floor and sit myself in front of him. My legs are splayed similarly to his, and I would imagine I look small and dumbfounded. I feel utterly useless and far away. All I can do is stare at his face, it’s tilted off to the side and back a bit, his eyes are closed and his lips are parted gently. It looks strangely peaceful and content, he looks oddly beautiful.

 

              Something shiny catches my eye.

 

              I glance down and see a knife glittering just an inch away from his hand. _How did I miss that?_ I stare at it for a moment, and then take a deep breath as if to summon courage and grab it hastily, accidently brushing the man’s black glove in the process. I turn it over in my hands, rubbing my finger along the blood-crusted blade.

 

              There’s a long, painful whine. I flinch and my eyes subconsciously refocus to the boy sitting behind my vision of the knife. I allowed the knife to clatter to the ground and the poor thing nearly jumps out of his skin. I watch in amazement as the amethyst eyes change to being filled with surprise, to confusion, and then finally to pure horror.

 

              “Sorey! What’re you-“ his words dissolve into an angry hiss as he tries to put pressure on his arms in order to lean forward, he clutches one wrist in his hand and closes one eye as if it helps the pain, “Why do I always end up in these fucking situations?”

 

              “Mikleo! Are you alright? Who did this to you?” I ask, accidently talking far too fast. He gives me a blank stare, and I open my mouth to repeat what I said more clearly, but I am abruptly cut off by a snicker. I sit back and become even more dumbfounded than I already was as I watch the man’s shoulders began to shake and borderline hysterical laughter fills the bathroom.

 

              “Seriously Sorey? You can’t figure it out?” He asks lifting his head as he finally stops laughing. His face is tearstained, and for once I’m at a loss of what to do. Nothing impulsive comes to mind, I simply sit and watch as the pretty albino’s façade begins to crumble. His face becomes serious, and he finally leans back, taking the pressure off of his bleeding arms. And then, to my horror, he attempts to stand.

 

              I stand up, my mind finally beginning to work and process my surroundings once again. I catch him as he slumps into me and groans, “That was a bad idea. Sorey, can you go in my mirror and get out the First Aid?” I stare at him, highly doubting that _First Aid_ would help, but I do as he says anyway. I open up the mirror, which has flecks of blood scattering the once clearly well cleaned surface, and pull out a surprisingly large First-Aid kit. Mikleo impolitely snatches it from my hands, and then slumps down to the floor.

 

              “Um, Mikleo, I hate to burst your bubble but I don’t think a First-Aid kit is going to help much…” I trail off as he opens up the kit, and my eyes widen. It’s not only filled with the basics like band aids, icepacks, and simple medicine, but also drugs and stitching materials. I raise an eyebrow at him, he appears unconcerned as he grabs a wipe and begins scrubbing at the blood.

 

              “Don’t worry about it,” I open my mouth to protest, he cuts me off immediately, “It’s not like I haven’t done this before.” His voice is quiet, almost a whisper. His eyes look sad, and I sit down next to him, leaning against the tub as I watch is well trained hands work.

 

              “Can you tell me what happened?” My voice is coaxing, perhaps a bit pleading. He stops, but only to grab another wipe. We sit in silence for what could’ve been seconds, or minutes, or perhaps hours. All sense of time seemed to be lost, it didn’t seem to matter.

 

              “Does this give you a hint?” He asks, holding his now mostly clean wrist out to me. Along it there are irritated red lines, and underneath them old faded scars. Some of the fresh lines are neat and clean, other are crooked, long and deep, as if the knife had suddenly had a mind of its own. I stare at it for a second, the gears in by brain taking far too long to churn and click. I blink at it blankly, and then suddenly start.

              _“You did this to yourself?!”_ I yell, which I immediately regret. He flinches and looks down sheepishly, holding his arm to his chest and pulling his knees up closer to him. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell…” I reach out, he flinches away.

 

              “How long… Have you been doing this for?”

 

              “Since I was sixteen.”

 

              _Five years, he’s been hurting himself for five years._

 

              “Why?” My voice is now obviously distraught, he flinches at it and drops his arm, looking utterly defeated.

 

              “That’s none of your business, now _please leave.”_ His voice isn’t cold, or sharp, in fact it’s desperate, pleading.

 

              “Leave you alone? You know I can’t-“ that, is apparently Mikleo’s breaking point. He whips around towards me, once again putting pressure on his frail arms as he leans into my face.

 

              “Yes, you fucking can. I’m not worth it Sorey, all I can do is mope and cry. You don’t want to be my friend, you really don’t. I’m _broken_ dammit,” his words begin to waver and he pulls away. Now pulling a roll of tape out of the first aid kit and beginning to wrap it around his arm.

 

              “So?” He looks up from his work and stares at me, giving me that blank look again, _“so what if you’re broken?”_ Now he looks absolutely dumbfounded.

 

              “It’s okay to be broken, Mikleo.”

 

              My voice is soft, and Mikleo stares for a couple more seconds before tears beginning spilling down his face. I’m mildly surprised; I’ve only known Mikleo for a couple weeks, but he doesn’t seem like one who would ever want to cry in front of others. My suspicions are confirmed as soon as he seems to register the tears rolling down his own face, and he immediately moves to cover it. He turns away and begins to sob, his breaths are short and choking as he attempts to rein himself in. I wrap my arms around his neck and press my chest into his back, only able to rub circles on his neck with my thumb as a reassurance while he fights against himself.

 

              Eventually, the choked sobs stop and the shaking slows. His breath is still ragged and irregular and he refuses to take his hands away from his face, even as I stroke his gloves in attempts to make him let go. “What kind of simple idiot,” he manages to splutter in between breaths, _“are you?”_ I chuckle as I burry my face into his hair, pressing my nose into his nape.

 

              “The romantic sappy kind,” I counter. This seems to please him, because his sides begin to shake and he begins to laugh, leaning back into me while still managing to cover his face.

 

              “Oh dear god, do you ever _think?_ ” He manages to say as his giggling dies down. I feel his sigh as the mood in the air changes in brief seconds, “But seriously Sorey,” his voice is too quiet. “I don’t want to hurt you, and I really don’t want to trust someone. Please leave while you can.”

 

              I pause, considering his words. “Don’t trust me then,” I finally reply. I feel him flinch even as I’m pulling away, “Just let me help. I don’t need your trust in return, just let me help.” He opens his mouth to counter, but it’s my turn to interrupt him now, “I’m not leaving. I’m not generally as stubborn as you, but I can be stubborn when I want to.” I cross my arms in attempt to make a statement, and he sighs.

 

              “Alright, alright, you can help. Even I know once you really set your mind to something nothing can get in your way,” his voice fades and slurs at the end of his sentence and he begins to mumble incoherently and sway. I place my hand on the man’s back, who is now apparently finally reaching his physical and mental limit.

 

              “Why don’t we put you in a bed?” I ask gently, although it’s not really a question as I’m already scooping him up. His only protest is a small whine which fades into nothing quickly, too week to put up a fight or even think properly. I feel his body finally completely relax as his eyes close and he slips into darkness. My heart patters and my entire body feels strangely warm. I note that he is far too light for a full grown man as I pace towards where I know his room his located. My lips tighten with determination and my hand curls around Mikleo’s shirt.

 

              _I have to help, I will help, and I want to help._

* * *

 

After cleaning up all the blood I could (I’m sure Mikleo will go over it again, considering how clean his house always is) and finishing wrapping Mikleo’s arms, and thighs which I also discovered were bloody, I finally get a chance to sit. Mikleo is laying on his back, many strands of hair fallen loose from his ponytail are strewn across his pillow. He has one gloved hand up by his face and the other across his stomach, and from the look of the position of his legs under the sheet on is straight and the other is cocked out in the opposite direction. He looks peaceful, he looks _pretty._

It’s so strange.

 

              He whines and turns to face his head away from me, I watch as his bangs fall out of his face, revealing a golden glimmer underneath of them. I stare at it, feeling the sudden unbearable impulse to move his bangs out of the way to see what lay underneath. I move my hand to reach for them, only to stop abruptly as the bed’s weight shifts underneath me. There’s another whine, more painful this time. He pulls his cocked leg up, and turns his head back up. His expression is no longer peaceful but instead stressed and… Afraid? Perhaps. He whines again and switches what leg is pulled up, straightening the other. I watch as his breathing begins to come raged.

 

              _“Stop.”_

 

              It’s such a small whimper I could easily miss the words. I stand up, too quickly and thoughtlessly, I pause to see if Mikleo noticed the shift in the bed. His incoherent whines only become louder.

 

              _“Mikleo,”_ I hiss, putting a hand on his shoulder and shaking, which only results in him flipping over towards me. He pulls his knees up to his chest and tucks his arms close to himself like a child. I grab his shoulder and shake again, “Mikleo, _M-I-K-L-E-O,_ ” I can feel the concern rising in my throat, it stings and makes my chest ache.

 

              Suddenly the thrashing worsens, and he sits up abruptly with a scream. In realization of the noise he’s making he covers his mouth with his hands. His breathing is heavy, and his hands are shaking. I crawl back into bed and take his face in my hands, allowing the warmth and softness to seep through my fingers.

 

              _“Mikleo, you’re okay. It was just a dream.”_

He flutters his lashes with surprised, and it would be an adorable expression if his eyes weren’t laced with fear. His breathing slows, and his eyes soften. He allows his own hands to drop into his lap.

 

              “Sorry, I know.” Is all he says.

 

              He begins rubbing circles on his temple, and once again I am met with the impulse to move his bangs. I swallow it, positive that Mikleo would not appreciate it right now and that there are more important things to be concerned with, “Are you alright? Does your head hurt?”  


              “I’m fine I just sat up to fast idiot,” he snaps back and lets his hand drop again. Despite his sharp words, Sorey swears he’s swaying and his eyes keep flickering closed.

 

              “Why don’t you go back to sleep?” I suggest softly. He grumbles something utterly incoherent and the flops back down on the bed. My gaze softens and I feel bittersweet warmth fill through me as I slide off the bed.

 

              I stop at a tug on my shirt. I look down at a black glove gripping the edge of it, and when I look over at Mikleo his face is turned away from me, but I can’t help but smile as I notice his ears are red. I rub his hand and it drops immediately and is pulled back up to its owner’s chest.

 

              “I’m just getting a book, I’ll be right back I promise,” my voice is nearly a whisper, but I know he hears it because she shifts again. I sigh as I turn out of the room to raid the man’s shelves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've gotten to this chapter, you are amazing. I love you, thank you so much ;-; You have endured so much crappy writing. BUt, I'm actually kind of please with this chapter? (wow I don't remember the last time I was okay with my own writing)
> 
> By the way, I didn't mean for Sorey and Mikleo to be this touchy-feely, they literally just wrote themselves. Whoops! Imagine how touchy-feely they would be if Mikleo wasn't still kind of uncomfortable with being touched. Also, let's count the amount of times Sorey called Mikleo pretty/beautiful in this chapter, because it's a lot. 
> 
> As always I lovelovelove comments of any kind and welcome constructive crit.! (actually you know what you can berate me with all the things I do wrong I'm not sensitive lol)


	7. Within a Creature's Eyes Lies the Soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took so long to write, and I have no idea why, it's pretty short. But in any case, I'm finally writing like I used to! Even if that isn't all that great #whoops.
> 
> Just wondering, does anyone actually read chapter titles? I think slapping the chapter titles on is my favorite part of publishing the chapters.

              The entire world is blurry. I groan as my eyes struggle to focus in the unfamiliar lighting. I shift over to look over at my clock, but instead I get stabbed in the side with the sharp corner of something. I barely restrain myself from yelping dramatically as I rummage underneath myself for the object, and pull out a book.

 

              _“The Celestial Record”_

I frown at it, _did I fall asleep reading?_ I look over to my left and nearly have to bite back another yelp. This time, nothing pokes me, but I am instead met with a face. His bangs are a poofy mess, and his long hair is spread all across his shoulders and behind him. Most of it has fallen out of his ponytail, as if he had been tossing and turning all night. Only then do I notice that I am on top of the covers and he’s underneath. _Yep, definitely fell asleep reading._

The gold glimmer on his forehead catches my eye again. With his bands messy and parted I can see part of a gold band. Curiosity overwhelms every inch of my body, and being the impulsive person I am I reach out to move his bangs away from his sleeping face, and this time succeed.

 

              It’s a golden circlet with a single green gem in the center of it. I stare at it with disbelief, I have never met a person who actually wears a circlet on an everyday basis, not to mention one this pretty. It’s quiet simple, ending around the very edges of his forehead with a pretty curve. In the middle of it sits a single green gem that seems to glitter in the non-existent light.

 

              “What are you doing idiot?”

 

              I jerk my hand away with surprise, and find my eyes looking with unique violet ones. They’re surprisingly soft, the panicked insanity from last night gone. But, they hold a certain emptiness. I decide that I liked them better when they glowed with emotion, even if it is fear.

 

              “A-ah sorry… I couldn’t help it, I wanted to know what it was,” I pout at him, and I watch with satisfaction as his face goes slowly turns pink, and then an impressive shade of red. I note that his blushes go all the way to his ears.

 

              He sits up abruptly, promptly hissing and pressing his hand to his temple while letting out a string of curses that makes me lift and eyebrow, he’s not one to just spill out cusswords. I open my mouth to protest to his movements, but he shut’s me up before I can say anything. “Head rush.”

 

              _Sure Mikleo, just a headrush._

But Mikleo is saved by an aggressive buzzing. I flip over and sit up, looking around and catching my phone vibrating dangerously on the bedside table. I stretch, attempting to grab it without moving to my spot. I feel the weight of the bed shift, and (uneven) footsteps can be heard walking around the edge of the bed. Mikleo shoves the phone in my face and then stalks off, “I’m going to take a shower, I feel disgusting.” The statement is followed by the sound of drawers being pulled open and closed as he attempts to find clothes.

 

              I stare at my phone’s lock screen as it goes from dark to bright, honestly surprised by first of all, the time: 10:00AM. And secondly, the shear amount of texts and calls. I slide my thumb across the screen to answer the most recent call, which just happens to be Zaveid. The phone only has to ring three times.

 

              _“Sorey! What the fuck? Are you alright? Did you get any of the texts we sent you?”_ The voice is screaming, and full of fear. It takes me a second to be able to form a sentence.

 

              “Um, yes I’m fine, yes I did get the texts but I didn’t read any of them, there were too many. Did something happen?”

 

              _“Did something happen?! Oi Edna, he just fucking asked if something happened,”_ I hear a (loud) voice in the background, which I presume to be Edna’s but I am unable to make up the words. _“A couple of your neighbors got hit by the murder last night. We came to your house to make sure you were okay, but when we came it was a mess. A bunch of stuff was turned over and there was blood all over the walls and you weren’t anywhere to be seen. Ah that’s right, where the hell are you?!”_

Questions fill my head, _who got hit? Are any of them alive? Why…_

“I’m at Mikleo’s, I fell asleep reading at his house last night,” is all I manage to make out. My voice is small, but it does not shake. I’m still too much in shock to have a total mental breakdown yet.

 

              _“Thank god, man you are so lucky. Is Mikleo awake?”_

 

              “Yeah, he just woke up a couple minutes ago, he’s in the shower though,” there’s brief silence before Zaveid finally speaks again.

 

              _“Once he’s done come back to your house, I think Lailah and the rest of us would very much like to see your face, and you should probably see the damage.”_ His voice is soft, and warmth fills my chest, _I have amazing friends._

“Okay I will, thank you. All of you.”

 

              The call ends with two beeps, and as I beginning reading through the texts from everyone I feel hot tears start to spill down my face, and my throat tightens with choked sobs.

 

* * *

 

              “Sorey?!” I hear a clear voice through my muddled brain. I look up, retracting my hands away from my face. Mikleo is blurry underneath tears. He’s wearing jean shorts that show off his bandaged thighs, and a loose short sleeved shirt seems to naturally fall off his shoulder.  His hair is thrown up in a bun, but his bangs are dripping from the shower water. His rarely worn violet glasses make the worry in his eyes stand out even more, and now that I’m on that train of thought I notice that his entire face is screwed up in concern.

 

              He rushes forward towards me, once again leaning forward on his injured arms and making me wince. “Why are you crying, what happened? Is it my fault I’m-“

 

              I grab his gloved hand that had begun to reach out towards me. He flinches in realization of what he was doing, and pulls away quickly. “Mmm, it’s not your fault Mikleo… I-it has nothing to do with you,” I begin to choke on my words and Mikleo crawls onto the bed and sits in front of me. His legs are crossed and his posture is, as always, impeccable.

 

              “Tell me what happened.” His voice is firm and final, but it carries a note of softness that I’ve only ever heard him use whilst talking to me.

 

              “W-well, apparently a bunch of my neighbors got hit by the murder, a-a-and…” I begin to ramble, I swear half of my words aren’t actual English. Mikleo only sits in silence as I begin to babble and cry, and at some point he begins rubbing his thumb against my wrist. The leather is unnaturally warm, and unusually calming.

 

              Eventually my crying dissolves into raspy breaths, and my pounding heart stops feeling like it’s going to burst. The aches in my chest weaken, and the fuzziness from my brain begins to sort itself. Comfortable silence washes over the house, and it takes a moment to register that Mikleo is still rubbing my wrist. I don’t pull away.

 

              “Well then, I suppose we should go to your house so that Lailah doesn’t have a mental breakdown and Edna doesn’t beat us,” his voice is soft, but not scary and controlled like I know it can be. There’s a gentle lightness to it, and I can’t help but smile a bit.

 

              “R-right, let’s go!” I grab his hand and begin to drag him towards the door. He stumbles awkwardly behind me.

 

              “W-w-wait Sorey I should probably change- _oh fuck it.”_

 

* * *

 

              Lailah is crying on my shoulder, Edna is poking my sides angrily (even though her voice is choked) and Zaveid is standing back frowning. Of course, he’s only standing there sulking after picking me up and spinning me around once.

 

              Mikleo had disappeared the second we entered my houses’ front gate. The simplest answer for that would be that he’s self-conscious about his bandages, but knowing Mikleo he’s probably up to something. After all, the entire way here he seemed to be in another world.

 

              “You guys should come look at this,” calls a voice from somewhere in the house. _So he was up to something._

 

              A head pops out from the hallway, Zaveid and Lailah nearly jump out of their skin, Edna just snickers. As he steps into the open the house falls stressfully silent. Lailah covers her mouth, her eyes filling with familiar emotion. A growl comes from Edna’s direction.

 

              “W-whoa, Mikey-boy where are those bandage’s fro-“

 

              “Follow me,” his voice is once again cold and sharp as he spins around. I sigh and then maneuver around Lailah to follow him, trotting up to him and easily falling into his long stride. I can practically feel the trio glancing at each other behind me before hesitantly following us.

 

              We enter my bedroom and my mouth falls open. It’s coated in unnatural amounts of blood and the walls are covered in symbols. My bedspread is a mess and my bedside table appears to be scratched and dented.

 

              “Thou who is under a powerful protector shalt not be touched. Do not fear prince, I will not attempt to touch your precious toy again.”

 

              I stare over at Mikleo. His voice is even colder, and his eyes are blank and sharp at the same time. They seem to have dark purple ridges in them that make them look threatening, almost hyper-focused. He looks over at me and his eyes tremble ever so slightly, but do not soften like they usually do, “that’s what the writing on the walls say.”

 

              “How can you read it? What is it?” Growls Edna, her face full of suspicion. Mikleo flashes her a fake smile, I decide it’s my least favorite expression he can carry. Un-genuine and manipulative.

 

              “My father taught me,” he does not explain further. Zaveid opens his mouth to press further, and I rest my finger to my lips in order to silently tell him not to. The way this is going one wrong move could push Mikleo over the edge.

 

              “What do you think it means?” I flash him a smile and nudge his side with my elbow. He blinks and then his expression genuinely softens. His eyes tremble again and his skin creases from emotion as a small smile crosses his face, even if it is a little sad.

 

              “I wonder,” but his voice is not full of wonder, in fact I’m positive he knows the answer. He only faces forward again.

 

              I look down at his feet. They’re shifting uncomfortably beneath him. I frown, “you’re legs hurt.” I make sure to say it like a fact, knowing that if there’s even a bit of a question in my voice he’ll take advantage of it. I am graced with no response from him, but a grin only grows on my face.

 

              “Okay! You’re going home,” there’s a rather girly squeal as I pick him up bridal style for the second time in two days, but this time he’s not practically knocked out from blood loss and mental exhaustion. He squirms and makes weak punches at my chest that only result in him wincing.  

 

              “I’ll be back in a couple minutes!” I yell back to the aghast trio behind me as I make my way awkwardly through the door.

 

              He’s still too light.

 

              I make note to buy a lot of pizza and shove it down his throat tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY HELL THEY'RE GAY
> 
> As always I love comments! It's nice to know people are actually reading what I write x-x 
> 
> Also this has 40 pages on Word. I don't think I've actually gotten this far into writing anything before, I feel accomplished #that'snoteventhatlonghelp


	8. Dreams That are Worse Than Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is very short but also very necessary

              An exasperated sigh fills my throat, and then exits.

 

              The call to my mother had been utterly exhausting. She was worried sick at the news, and insisted that she’s coming home as soon as possible, no matter how much I insisted it wasn’t necessary and that I could handle it myself (in all honestly, I’m not really sure I could handle it by myself).

 

              To policewoman are here, and I watch as they argue and tease each other, not really seeming to do much productive. Their names are Rose and Alisha, and Rose told everyone at least five times they were dating while Alisha’s face lit on fire as she insisted they weren’t, it wasn’t all that convincing, but I think it was kind of adorable.

 

              Rose finally stops arguing with Alisha, “You guys can probably leave, ‘Lisha and I can take it from here.” An exaggerated smile spills over her face as she points to herself. Alisha smiles and waves, _“excuse my partner.”_

 

              I flash a guilty smile and unconsciously scratch the back of my neck. Zaveid swings an arm around my shoulder, almost making me face plant, “But Sorey is homeless now, aren’t you Sorey?”

 

              “A-ah, Mikleo said I could stay at his place for as long as I wanted…” Zaveid frowns and takes his arm off my shoulder.

 

              “You two sure get along well don’t you,” Lailah smiles and intertwines her hands together.

 

              “Yeah, I don’t know if I like it. I never know what that kid is thinking,” I open my mouth to protest, but Edna beats me to it. Her umbrella snaps open.

 

              “Meebo needs someone like Sorey, it’s a good thing.”

 

              Everyone stares at Edna. Edna had never shown a particular fondness for Mikleo, in fact all she did was tease him persistently, although Mikleo had never truly complained about it.

             

              “But,” she starts again, everyone in the room seems to sag at the word, “Sorey, screw this up and you’ll break him for real.”

 

              I stare at her and allow the words to sink in. _Break him, I could break him._ I have a feeling my face pales considerably. Edna does not take back the words, or attempt to sugar coat and reword them, instead she stalks out of the room with Lailah scolding her from behind.

 

              Zaveid only let’s out a low whistle.

 

              “Well, maybe we should go get drinks,” he elbows me in the side. “Pick up some girls, eh? How about it, get your mind off things!”

 

              “Zaveid… No thank you.”

 

* * *

 

              As I open the door I’m hit with a strong aroma, it reminds me of my mother’s cooking. I throw off my shoes at the door (and then fix them, Mikleo has yelled at me for doing that a lot) and wander into the hall.

 

              “Ah, that was fast,” Mikleo steps out of the kitchen. He’s wearing gray sweatpants now, but the same shirt, only with a blue apron overtop of it.

 

              “A-ah! Aren’t you supposed to be resting?” I begin to run up to him worriedly, but he turns away from me, his ponytail flipping as he does so. I notice that the tied ribbon around his waist annunciates his unusually feminine build. Actually, perhaps he has an even curvier waist than some girls…

 

              “I don’t like feeling useless or incapable, so I did something about it.” He rolls his head back towards me just to show me his pout, and I feel my cheeks light up. My heart flutters and suddenly I am unable to process logic and the world around me. A giant smirk replaces his pout, and my heart only speeds up, _what the fuck, why am I so jumpy?_

 

              I decide I’m probably still on edge from everything that’s happened in the span of far too little hours.

 

              He walks back into the kitchen and I trail after him. The ovens alit and there are sautéed vegetables in a pan. I peak into the oven and my eyes light up. Earlier I told Mikleo we could order pizza when we got home, but apparently he had decided to make it from scratch. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

 

              “No, you look at food at you burn it.”

 

              _True._

 

              “Sorey, are you alright? A lot has happened, and you look quite pale,” he turns around to face me properly, and his eyes are alight with worry. He leans forward and tilts his head, as if examining an ancient artifact thoroughly.

 

              “A-ah, don’t worry about me I’ll be fine,” I begin, scratching the back of my neck. His eyes narrow suspiciously at me and I drop my hand. “My mom is coming back home soon, she’ll help me figure it out.”

 

              _“Liar.”_ He mumbles under his breath.

 

              “What did you say?”

 

              “I called you a liar.” His eyes have a fire lit in them, he’s angry, I blink at him in surprise.

 

              “Hey! What do you mean? My mom really is-“

 

              _“That’s not the part you’re lying about,”_ he annunciates the words, as if trying to explain something advanced to a small child. “You’re not fine, and you’re not going to be fine.” He states it like a fact. It’s like a cold slap across the face. But, he doesn’t stop there. He stalks up to me, shoving his face so close to mine I feel his breath on my lips. My cheeks burn ever so slightly despite the deathly glare on his face, “Sorey, you’re an open book. If you’re going to be such a goddamn open book, then at least don’t lie about your own wellbeing.” I open my mouth to protest, but he covers it with his hand and comes so close our noses are touching. My eyes are trembling in their own skull.

 

              He takes a deep breath and steps away. When he opens his eyes they’re calm but not cold, they’re expressionless but not dead. “I want you to be honest with me, even more honest than you already are,” a soft smile appears across his face and his eyes tremble with fondness, as if he’s staring at the most beautiful thing in the world. I don’t know what it means, but I instantly decide it’s my favorite expression on him. “In return, I’ll do everything I can to help you, and I won’t let anyone hurt you for your honesty and openness.”

 

              I stare at him, once again finding myself dumbfounded. Mikleo seems to leave me dumbfounded a lot, perhaps because I still feel like I know everything and yet absolutely nothing about him. Words impulsively leave my lips, “Only if you’re completely honest with me.” He stares at me with surprise, and then his eyes narrow with suspicion. I cover my mouth, _too bold._ I had overstepped a line, pushed a button.

 

              _One wrong move and you’ll break him completely._

The kitchen timer goes off, and he turns around to make himself busy. For the first time since we met the silence is awkward, “Sorr-“

 

              “Fine,” his voice is quiet. Afraid? “I’ll try to be more honest with you, but openness isn’t my nature, so don’t expect too much.” He begins to fiddle with his gloves, “D-don’t just stand there! Go read a book or something, I’m trying to make sure you don’t starve.”

 

              I find myself laughing at the tint of red on his face, and me doing so seems to light it on fire.

 

* * *

 

              “So, when is your mom coming home?” Mikleo mumbles softly over his empty plate.

 

              “Mmmm,” Mikleo glares at me, I swallow my food before I speak. “Not sure, as soon as possible. She has to somehow get out of the rest of her business trip…”

 

              Mikleo’s eyes narrow and his lips purse, a look I’ve come to recognize as concern. “Once you’re done eating go to bed, you look exhausted.”

 

              “Yes ma’am…” I mumble. He begins taking in the empty plates and cups, making trips back for leftovers as I gulp down the rest of my food. As he returns to grab my plate he places a hand over my forehead. “You know Mikleo… You’re almost as bad as Lailah.”

 

              He flicks my forehead, “Owe!’

 

              “Go to bed.”

 

* * *

 

              I’m awoken by a blood curdling scream.

 

              I jolt up at the sound, glancing around wildly before my eyes land on the clock, _1:21 A.M._ The house is now silent, one could hear a mouse scuttle across the floor. I begin to shift uncomfortably in my bed, stopping only when I hear it, ever so quiet muffled sobbing.

 

              I jolt out of bed and (ungracefully) slam my door open and barrel towards Mikleo’s room, skidding around corners like a small child who hasn’t yet learned proper turning mechanisms. As I reach the door I stop to listen, my hand hovering over the nob. I can tell he’s trying hard not to be loud, and he clearly has his face buried into something. I reach for the nob, gently turning it and allowing the door to swing open, “Mikleo?” I call out softly.

 

              He looks up, his face having formerly been buried in a pillow. The pillow is being squeezed in-between his knees, his arms and his chest. Only his eyes are poked out from the shield of the pillow, but I can still see them clearly in the dark. They’re glowing, they’re _terrified._ He’s shaking all over and tears are streaming down his face. I watch as he backs further into the headboard behind him like a small child or a terrified animal. His hair is completely down, it’s ruffled and falls all around him, as if he had been turning all night.

 

              “Mikleo,” I repeat. It isn’t a question anymore, it’s soft now and full of genuine pity. I begin to walk towards him, his shaking increases and so does his grip on the pillow. His haunting eyes follow my every move until I sit down in front of him. His breathing is raspy, desperate and uneven as if he has forgotten how to breathe properly. I reach my hand out towards his face, his eyes squeeze shut and his entire body tenses. I scoot forward to cup his face, “Mikleo it’s just me, why are you so afraid?”

 

              His eyes flutter open and he stares at me, his eyes switching from panic to haunting fear. He hugs the pillow tighter, not pushing me away but not looking particularly comfortable with the contact either. I frown at him and yank the pillow out of his grasp with surprising power. He yelps and hits his head on the headframe, hissing in pain.

 

              I take place of the pillow and wrap my arms around him.

 

              At first he’s still, his legs stop shaking on either side of me, his breathing even stops. He’s completely stunned, and I briefly wonder if I’ve killed him. But slowly, the shaking starts again, even more than before if that seems possible. He grabs at me, dragging me closer to him so our chests are pressed together and my face is buried in the crook of his neck. I can feel his heart pounding, it’s beating so hard and fast I question whether he might have an actual heart attack. His grip around me tightens, even through his gloves and my shirt I can feel his fingernails digging into my skin. His sobs are almost as desperate as his grip and his breathing rattles in his chest. He cries, and cries. He cries until all of his limbs fall loose and his breathing slows to a consistent hum. I push the cover back and pull him down, never once letting go of him.


	9. The Iron Wall has a Dent

              My eyes flutter open, straining to adjust themselves to the brighter light of the room. I frown, _what time is it?_ I move to turn over, and find myself unable to. Realization hits me upside the head as I look down awkwardly.

 

              Mikleo’s face is buried into my chest, his eyelids are droopy and his face is pale and peaceful. I can feel one of his hands tugging lazily on my shirt, as if it had previously been gripping it. His entire body is pressed firmly against me and our legs are properly tangled; I thank the god’s almighty that Mikleo had changed out of his shorts. I briefly contemplate how I’m going to move without waking him up, before simply sighing and relaxing back into the pillow.

 

              However, Mikleo stirs. There’s a small whimper as his eyes flutter back open. He nuzzles into my chest before pushing himself away, resting a hand on my chest as he does so. I can feel his legs pull out from under mine. He blinks at me briefly and squints, as if trying to recall the events from last night.

 

              “I fell asleep?”

 

              “Yes.”

 

              “With you?”

 

              “Well… Kind of?”

 

              He gives me a suspicious look before sitting all the way up. His movements are graceful, even so early in the morning. It’s completely mesmerizing.

 

              “Well… Thank you,” He says quietly, attempting to work out some of the knots in his hair. “I think that’s the most I’ve slept in five years.”

 

              “Five years?” I ask, still watching him from my laying position. “That’s how long you’ve been cutting for too, right?”

 

              He flinches, and stops working out knots if only for a moment, and then continues, “Yes.”

 

              Now I pull myself up, plopping myself much less gracefully in a cross-legged position, “Did something happen five years ago?” I ask quietly.

 

              “It… Wasn’t really one thing. It was more like a series of an incredible downward spire of events…” He frowns, and drops his hands into his lap, chewing on his lip so much I’m positive he’s going to make it bleed. Finally, he holds out his hand to me and turns his head in the opposite direction, “Take off the glove.”

 

              I oblige, slowly tugging off one of the mysterious gloves. I gape at what lay underneath it, “Burn scars?” I lay his hand in my own, turning it over and tracing the palm of it with my fingers. I feel him shiver underneath the touch, but he does not reply. I turn his hand back over and rub the top of his hand. The skin there is soft and sensitive, not rough like normal scars. It’s lumpy and uneven, and red and irritated, as if it wasn’t long healed.

 

              “That’s the event,” He says quietly, perhaps even choked, “That started my living hell.” His words are angry, loathing, and they tremble with a mix between rage and sadness. “I can’t look at them, in case you haven’t figured that out,” he pauses, takes a breath. “I usually don’t let other people look at them either. In fact…” He trails of quietly.

 

              There’s a long pause before, “Please put the glove back on.”

 

              I hesitate, staring at the pretty, fine hand before putting the glove back on its owner. He drops his hand into his lap and looks at me, it’s a calculating look. I can almost see the complicated cogs of his overthinking brain turning, and tighten my hands. I want to know how his brain works, I want to hear the brilliant trains of thought I know he has, his observant to obscure insane details, the way his brain overthinks every situation and assess it logically, but always seems to come up with the right answer. The way lies can just roll off his tongue and the reason why the truth seems to choke in his throat.

 

              “You really aren’t revolted?” I blink at him, and confusion hits me.

 

              “Revolted, why?”

 

              “Burn scars aren’t exactly pretty, Sorey. Especially when you haven’t had scar removal done on them,” he looks genuinely surprised. “Even if you weren’t completely disgusted I wouldn’t expect you to touch them-“

 

              “I think they make you more interesting.” I frown and sit my hands in my lap indignantly. Shock passes his face, then overwhelming emotion and finally laughter erupts from his mouth. It’s not completely hysterical like the night I found him covered in blood, but it’s certainly not lighthearted either.

 

              _“What the hell is with you?!”_ He snorts, finally getting a hold of himself, but still giggling and gasping for breath. “Ahhh,” he says looking down and scratching his head, “Why do you make everything so complicated and make it sound so fucking simple.”

 

              “I-I… Sorry? I don’t…”

 

 

              “Sappy romantic.”

 

              “Eh?”

 

              “That’s what you are,” a smirk takes over his face, “A sappy romantic.” I puff my cheeks and cross my arms, looking away and mocking offence like a small child. I hear Mikleo giggle, and _holy crap it’s adorable._  I spare him a glance and see him with a hand over his mouth, his eyes hold the same expression as last night, the one where he looks like he’s looking at the entire world. My cheeks light on fire.

My phone rings. I nearly jump straight up in the air which causes Mikleo to burst out laughing. It occurs to me that I’ve never really heard Mikleo laugh, and I’m mesmerized. The phone rings persistently but all I can do is stare at him and listen, “Answer the phone, idiot!” Mikleo manages to get out through giggles. I scramble, with impressive amounts of discoordination and bright red cheeks to grab the phone. I look at it, it’s Zaveid. I allow my finger to swipe across it and put it on speaker as Mikleo’s giggles are finally restrained.

 

              “Do you need something?” I ask into it.

 

              _“The police girls who were investigating your house wanted to talk about the details over dinner tonight, I think you should come since it kinda, yanno, your house.”_

“Mmm okay, text me the address to where we’re going to. Oh, that’s right,” I look over my shoulder to see Mikleo pulling stuff out of his drawer, “Mikleo do you want to come, since you can read that writing?”

 

              “No, not really.” He calls back. I pout at him as he turns around and watch with joy as his cheeks light up, “Please~?” I whine.

 

He huffs, “Fine.”

 

“Okay Zaveid, Mikleo’s coming too,” I hear Zaveid sigh on the other end.

 

 _“Alright, fantastic. See you at 6:45.”_ He hangs up, and I glance over at Mikleo.

 

“I want you to know,” He begins. “I am not a fan of large crowds, drunk people, or police officers. So why I just said yes I’m not entirely sure.”

 

“Oh? Police officers? That’s a new one,” I raise an eyebrow at him and then smirk. “Had to deal with them before?”

 

“Yes.” My face pales, and he snickers, “But not because I did something, stupid. I’ve done a lot of dumb things but I’m not a criminal.” I release a breath, and he gives me another fond smile before continuing, “Are you going to somehow manage to make breakfast yourself or can you wait until I get out of the shower?”

 

“I’ll wait!” I beam at him, and he rolls his eyes. “I would even take your cooking over my mother’s… Don’t, tell her I said that.”

 

He giggles again, and I smile. So, so much nicer than thrashing and screaming and crying.

 

Even more worth to stick it through the trashing, screaming and crying so I can see him smile.

* * *

 

I let Mikleo drive to the restaurant, since apparently he’s been there before. He told me it at least used to be a hot spot for police officers, and assuming we are going there to meet a police officer we both presume that is still the case.

 

“Hey Mikleo… You said you hadn’t slept like that in five years, does that mean you have nightmares like that often?” I inquire out of the blue. A pensive expression covers his face, but not sour nor skeptical like it used to be when I asked him a question.  

 

“Not just often, every night. Unless I just don’t sleep at all…” He trails off, considering his next words carefully, “Some nights they’re worse than others, I don’t always scream, but sometimes I do. Sometimes I fall back asleep, sometimes I don’t.” We take a right.

 

“How are you even alive?”

 

“I’m pretty sure I’m cursed, I won’t even try to pretend like I haven’t attempted to kill myself. Not to mention there have been periods of times where I plain just don’t take care of myself.” He frowns, “How do I always end up telling you everything?”

 

I laugh quietly, “I don’t know, maybe you trust me or something?” Mikleo flinches at the idea.

 

“Sorey.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I think you might terrify me even more than the person who gifted me hell and plagues my nightmares.”

We arrive at the “restaurant”. It’s old and shabby, and reeks of alcohol. “Hey Mikleo…” I start, he only sighs and walks in.

 

“I forgot to mention that this place makes me want to jump off a cliff due to the overwhelming stench of liquor.” Before I can apologize for asking him to come, he waves his hand at me, “Don’t apologize, I had the power to say no.” Then disappears into the “restaurant” which from here on out I am going to define as a bar.

 

I trail in after him. Thankfully, it’s pretty quiet. There’s some idle chatter, and some drunken laughter rings out. But there is no screaming, or anyone who looks drunk beyond being able to function. Except, Zaveid apparently, who comes up to Mikleo and I and squeezes us together.

 

“Sorey, Mickey-Boy! Nice to see ya,” Zaveid’s voice is even more slurred and eccentric than usual, which is slightly concerning. Discomfort is very, very obvious on Mikleo’s face. Suddenly, Zaveid collapses beneath us. He whistles, which apparently his is not so drunk that he cannot do, “Wow Mickey-Boy, impressive.” Mikleo snorts, and I tilt my head.

 

“Wait what happened?” I ask scrambling to get up.

 

“He kicked me in the back of the knee,” Zaveid grunts, Mikleo rolls his eyes and looks around.

 

“Are Alisha and Rose here?” I inquire, Zaveid nods and motions for us to follow him, which we do. I watch cautiously to make sure the larger man isn’t about to topple over, even Mikleo looks fairly concerned.

 

We arrive at larger table sitting in the corner. The redhead whistles, “Wow Sorey, you’re friend there is quite the looker.” Mikleo doesn’t react, instead he simply sits down and I take the place next to him.

 

“So,” Alisha asks, pointed at Mikleo, “Are you the one who can read the mysterious writing, then?”

 

Mikleo gives her a thin smile, “It’s not so mysterious. But yes, I can read the code.”

 

“What is it?” Rose asks leaning forward, suddenly this has the feel of an interrogation.

 

“It’s a code that a high ranking group in the underworld often writes in,” Mikleo deadpans. His face is totally blank, and a cold chill runs up my spine. Rose’s mouth drops and she stands up angrily.

 

“How do you know about something like that?”

 

“Do you know Zenrus?” Rose’s eyes squint, Mikleo appears to take it as a yes and continues, “I used to play information broker for him sometimes. It was necessary information for me to know. As for how I obtained and learned it, that’s none of your business.” A smile stretches across his face and he rests his head atop his hands.

 

“What group is it?”

 

“That I cannot tell you or else all of our heads will be rolling on the floor before the name even gets off my tongue. But, if you’re wondering who committed the murders and destroyed the house I have a guess.”

 

I know so much about him, and yet so little.

 

“I’m sure they have allies, but William Spencer and Arell Goldsworth seem to check all the boxes. I don’t know anything else though,” He sighs and begins to rub his temple. “But, they’re a bunch of fucking idiots, so they shouldn’t be too hard to catch.” He looks at the police woman straight in the eye.

 

“Who the hell are you?” Rages Rose.

 

“Mikleo Rulay, nice to meet you.” Rose sits back down and huffs in defeat, Alisha looks at her girlfriend with mild concern.

 

“I’ve actually heard that old man say your name once or twice, you must be damn important if he actually speaks of you.” She frowns, and then turns to the blonde beside her, “Alisha, why don’t you begin the report?”

 

“A-ah, yes,” Alisha begins, but all I can do is stare at Mikleo. He turns towards me, and frowns. His eyebrows furrow together and he gives me a calculating look, once again trying to read me like a book, and most likely succeeding.

 

He turns back towards Alisha, but wraps his hand around my wrist and begins rubbing repetitive circles into it. I relax into the chair and begin to listen to Alisha’s droning voice, trying to pay attention to her talking about the utter destruction and havoc throughout my house.

* * *

 

As everyone finally finishes their talk over the house and general murders, we all prepare to leave. Mikleo drops his hand, which had previously somehow ended up tangled in mine. He looks tired, and I frown. After he had finished his debate with Rose he had fallen completely silent, not uttering another word but instead choosing to rub my wrist. When he started doing so I’m positive it was supposed to be for comforting me, but as the night went on I have a feeling it unconsciously became for himself.

 

I poke him in the side as we walk towards the door, “I’m driving!” He flinches away from my prod and returns the gesture by bumping his hip into my own.

 

“Please don’t get lost,” I frown at his lack of faith in me, but a smile appears on my lips as I notice his softened expression and ghost of a smile.

 

Mikleo takes his place in the passenger seat, and admittedly it’s a couple of minutes before he decides to break the silence, “Are you mad?” He asks quietly.

 

“Surprised? Yes. Mad? Maybe I should be, but I think I’m unable to be mad at you for more than a second,” I sigh. His already guilty expression turns even guiltier. He lays his head on the center console. The moon makes his hair glow a mysterious white, making him look almost intangible, inhuman. I burry one hand in his hair in order to prove the thoughts wrong before quickly glancing back to the empty road.

 

“You really are terrifying,” he mumbles quietly. “I don’t know when, but somehow I ended up trusting you. That’s an absolutely petrifying thing for me Sorey,” his shoulders shake. It’s just barely, no normal person would be able to notice it, but I can. “Please, please don’t betray me, please don’t purposefully hurt me.” His voice is barely a whisper, and I have a nagging feeling that that wasn’t really for me, but for himself. I untangle my hands from his hair and he flinches and tenses, as if expecting me to smack him. Instead I place my hand on the man’s shaking shoulders and begin to rub them, I feel his muscles relax and his eyes flutter closed, although he doesn’t fall asleep.

 

“I won’t,” I reply softly. “Please don’t be afraid anymore.”


	10. Mom Know they're Gay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been longer than usual since I updated, I got stuck. Had to rewrite this chapter twice ;---;;; I'm also drowning in homework and just started another multi chapter fic, so I'm kind of dying. I hope you enjoy this piece of fluff before everything starts hitting the fan again.

It took two weeks of me ending up in Mikleo’s bed due to unrelenting nightmares to convince him that _“I’m just going to end up there anywhere, why don’t we just start there?”_

 

In those two weeks, almost no progress had been made in stopping the murders, despite Mikleo figuring out the main culprits. He said they were easy to catch, I’m not entirely sure I believe him since people are still turning up dead left and right.

“It’s November,” I sigh. “We’ve been out of school for more than a month, this is insane.” Mikleo shrugs as he walks out of the bathroom. He’s wearing loose jeans, but a short sleeved shirt and honestly, it’s not the first time I find myself staring at his marred arms. About a week ago he finally stopped wearing the bandages, claiming that his wounds were healed enough. Before that I knew he had scars, but I was not aware of the sheer amount of them. Lots of them were in neat parallel lines, but every once in a while you would see one than ran down vertically, or ones that got crooked as if his hands had lost control.

 

I pull my eyes away from his arms and stare up at his face, he’s in deep thought. His eyes are pensive and soft, not cold and calculating like they sometimes can become when he’s hyper focused. He sighs, “Well, those bastards are pretty sporadic. They do whatever they want and kill whoever and however they want.” A chill runs up my spine.

 

“The amount of knowledge you have about these things is slightly terrifying.”

 

“Mmmm,” he hums, seeming too lost for any other response. “Well,” he mumbles. “They were pretty stupid to leave that message, I probably wouldn’t have figured it out without it. Actually, they pretty much just _told me who they were_ by doing that.”

 

“’ _Thou who is under a powerful protector shalt not be touched. Do not fear prince, I will not attempt to touch your precious toy again.’_ Mikleo, what does it mean? And don’t tell me you don’t know.” I cross my arms across my chest and pout. He sighs, and seems to ponder.

 

“It means even the dumbest of them all isn’t dumb enough to anger Father.”

 

I stare at him, and then wrinkle my brow. “You’re talking in riddles again Mikleo, I have no idea what that means.” He gives me a look that clearly reads _you’re not supposed to, dumbass._ I sigh, “You really are stubborn.”

 

“I’m well aware,” he smirks, and then he pouts. “They really are stupid though, that’s such a bad way to word that.” He sighs and begins to rub his temple, apparently suffering from the sheer amounts of stupidity that these murders have. I simply tilt my head at him.

 

“Breakfast…?” I ask, like a small child asking if they can have cake. He rolls his eyes and walked out of the room, at this point I take that as a yes.

 

“Your mom is coming tonight, right?” Mikleo calls from what I presume to be the kitchen as I ungracefully crawl out of bed, blowing a stray brown hair out of my face.

 

“Yeah!” I call back. A couple of nights ago (I have lost track of exact time at this point, my small human mind does not have that kind of memory capacity) my mother had called claiming she was returning shortly. She attempted to convince me she was staying at a hotel, I told her no, there was no way I’m letting my own mother staying in a hotel for gods knows how long. I felt a bit bad for asking Mikleo to let her stay here, but he didn’t seem to mind at the time.

 

“Sorey,” Mikleo says softly as I wander into the kitchen, peaking over his shoulder to watch him whisking pancake batter. “I have a question.”

 

“Mmmm?” It comes out muffled as I burry my face into his shoulder. He only stiffens briefly before relaxing into me, leaning back into my chest and stopping his whisking.

 

“How do you plan to explain to your mother that we’re sleeping together?” My face immediately lights on fire, a trait that I don’t think will ever go away. I back away from him and stand back, watching as he throws a smirk over his shoulder, _that little…_

“S-she won’t care…” I stutter softly, suddenly finding my own bare feet incredibly interesting. I scuff my feet on the immaculate white tile before daring to glance back up to him, only to find he had turned back around.

 

“I’m just saying she might take it the wrong way,” He practically sings. I stiffen as he cocks his hip, showing off just how unnaturally curvy and feminine he is.

 

“Since when were you such a tease?” I mumble. He giggles, one of the sounds that is now very high on my list of the best things to listen to in the universe, and is a constant reminder to just how much of _my_ universe now revolves around the man I only met a little over a month ago.

 

              The pancake batter makes a sizzling sound as he begins pouring it onto the pan, “Do you need to do anything to prepare for her coming? Or is the guestroom clean?” The only guestroom Mikleo owns is the one I had previously been staying in, and I had been forced to move out all of my personal items in order for my mom to stay in it. Luckily that wasn’t much, I had left most of my own clothing at my house.

 

              “Nope, everything is perfect!” I smile proudly, putting my hands on my hips.

 

              “Fantastic I’ll go clean it.” My eyebrow twitches as my pride is immediately crushed by Mr. Neatfreak.

 

“You better not go to work today, todays your day off,” my voice sounds whinier than I originally intended it to be. But that’s not my fault, Mikleo has a habit of working on his days off and it gets aggravating. The man simply _can’t stand still_ and I question how he hasn’t collapsed considering he never slept even a wink until recently, and even now he doesn’t sleep enough.

 

“No instead I’m doing chores like a _responsible adult_.” He sends me a glare as he begins making tea, my pancakes still sizzling. I pout at him, but don’t bother to argue the fact that I am indeed a responsible adult, knowing that that argument will be lost. “Even if I did have work I would ask for the day off anyway,” He continues whilst pacing over to the pancakes and flipping them. “I have too much to do. I’ve been working extra hours there anyway too so I don’t think they’d care.” He walks back to his tea.

 

“Your multi-tasking skills are pretty impressive.”

 

“Thanks I try.”

 

* * *

 

 

I am indeed, not at all a responsible adult.

 

“Everyone is staring at us Sorey,” Mikleo voices, clearly uncomfortable. I am currently sitting in the front of a grocery cart, and Mikleo is pushing me, occasionally grabbing something a shelf. “You’re paying,” he quips, not looking up from his grocery list as I push something sweet into the basket. He doesn’t exactly look in place himself, having accidently grabbed my sweatshirt and not his own, and he is swimming in it. It’s utterly adorable, even if I have a feeling that I am never getting that sweatshirt back.

 

Worth it.

 

“Yeah yeah, I’m not that mean.” I turn around and pout at him, he frowns and swerves that cart, causing me to nearly hit my head on the rim.

 

“If the cart breaks you’re paying for that too. Also, you’re heavy lose some weight.” _Ouch._

 

 

Mikleo is pacing frantically around the house.

 

It’s rather nerve wracking to watch, you would think the worlds going to explode the way he’s running around. But despite his fast pace and excessive cursing and general snappiness, he manages not to drop or run into anything and remain the epitome of grace. I have never met a person whom the more frantic they get the more organized they are, or I hadn’t until I met Mikleo.

 

I have tried to help several times before deciding I’ll just get away, and have resorted to watching the news and feeling agitated for not being able to do anything.

 

_More corpses found, higher body count, no one can do anything, no evacuation or other solution in sight._

My heart begins pounding in my ears and I feel a sharp pain run through my chest. I flinch, and realize that at some point my breathing had become uneven. I shift uncomfortably as several more quick pains assault my chest as my stomach begins to ache annoyingly, making the chest pains even worse and beginning the endless dominos, my breathing becoming even raspier knowing what’s to come.

 

The TV goes black and I start to see white hair by my shoulder, and then my brain registers the human body heat on the back of my head. Black gloves retract from the remote in my hand.

 

“If it gives you anxiety don’t watch it,” leather runs over my cheek and light steps recede back into the kitchen. I look up to watch the silvery white ponytail swish and my breathing evens out without me trying, and the chest pains don’t bother me again as my mind wanders elsewhere.

 

 

* * *

 

             

              “Mom!” I screech as excitement burbles up in my gut, staring at the familiar face standing in the doorway. I’m vaguely aware of Mikleo standing awkwardly somewhere behind me, but he’s not my focal point at the moment.

 

              “Hi sweetheart,” giggles Selene. She looks tired, there are dark circles under her alight brown eyes. Her skin is a pretty dark tan, and she has perfectly straight silky brown hair that she’s wearing unbound. It drops down to her middle back, some of it falls over her shoulders. She’s tall for a woman, around the same height as Mikleo perhaps. Her entire vibe screams “friendly” and “welcoming”. I promptly envelope her in a hug, breathing in familiar warmth that I haven’t felt in far too long.

 

              “Oh, is this your friend?” She coos as I pull away, staring behind me and at Mikleo. He’s wearing his violet glasses for once, most likely for reading labels and small instructions for cooking, and is still sporting my oversized sweatshirt. The glasses make his amethyst eyes look big, and even more painfully obvious and beautiful than they already are. It’s really, really overwhelmingly adorable, especially since he’s been shy and awkward.

 

              “Mom this is Mikleo,” my mom pushes past me and grabs Mikleo’s hand excitedly, pumping it up and down. Mikleo looks utterly baffled and perplexed at what to do, and I snicker helplessly as he looks at me for help.

 

              “It’s so nice to meet you! Thank you for helping Sorey, I’m sorry he’s such handful I hope he hasn’t caused you too much trouble,” my mother drops his hand and gives Mikleo his beloved personally space, I watch as his shoulders visually relax and his eyes soften slightly.

 

              “He’s not so bad, most of the time.” He chirps, looking his hands behind his back and giving my mother his signature innocent grin. I make an offended noise and he throws me a smirk in return, my mother watching our silent conversation whilst looking mildly impressed.

 

              “Well I’m glad to hear that. Since you’re letting me stay here perhaps I could cook din-“

 

              “Already taken care of,” Mikleo cuts in, pacing towards the kitchen, leaving my mother slightly baffled. “I have no idea what you like but Sorey seemed to be convinced that you would eat anything I cooked, so I hope it’s to your liking.”

 

              My mom raises and eyebrow and looks towards me, an unreadable and yet mischievous expression on her face, “Oh, so he’s a good cook?”

 

              “His food is mouthwatering…” I groan, looking up to the heavens and lacing my hands together. My mother giggles, seeming pleased as her eyes follow Mikleo carrying a nice yellow out to the table. I skirt around her to look in it and then plop down in the closest chair.

 

              “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you make soup before,” I mumble. “What is it?”

 

              He shrugs in response, “It doesn’t really have a name, and it’s just something I like to make when I don’t have much time. It tastes good, and it works.” I raise an eyebrow at him, wondering if he would actually give a clear answer if I asked him what’s in it.

 

              “What’s in it?” My mother asks curiously, suddenly peering over my shoulder to look into the pot.

 

              “Oh I don’t know, it changes slightly from time to time.” I roll my eyes as he sets both a bowl of salad and a bowl of bread down before wandering back into the kitchen yet again.

 

              “Mom, Mikleo doesn’t know how to give straight answers to anything, asking him questions is pretty pointless.” Mikleo seems unfazed by my comment, but my mother pouts.

 

              “Oh then how am I supposed to learn anything about my son’s best friend?” She looks pointedly at Mikleo and crosses her arms, wearing a very similar puppy-dog-face to my own.

 

              “Would you like anything else to drink?” Mikleo asks in response as he sets down a glass of water at her spot, giving her another innocent smile. My mother furrows her brows in loss.

 

              “No thank you,” she grumbles like a bad sport who just lost their soccer game. Conversation begins, mostly consisting of my mother asking me questions about Mikleo instead of Mikleo himself, fortunately he doesn’t seem too offended by this. Occasionally I dart around ones that I think Mikleo would not enjoy me answering, my tactics aren’t sneaky by my mother is polite enough not to prod.

 

              “What room are you staying in Sorey?” My mother asks with innocent curiosity, fluttering her thick black eyelashes. Mikleo snorts from across the table, covering his gloved hand over his mouth as he attempts not to do further.

 

              “A-ah well…” I trail off, feeling my cheeks heat up and my confidence levels depleting. I stutter awkwardly trying to figure out how to explain our situation without making it sound weird…

 

              “We sleep together,” Mikleo deadpans. I nearly choke at the implications of the words, my mother looks oddly delighted and Mikleo seems to find temporary joy in my pain, but thanks the gods he is in a merciful mood. He laughs lightly, “I only have one guestroom, so I had to boot him out of the room you’re staying in.” His gaze softens and he stands, gathering his own plates in his arms and locking fond eyes with my own. They’re intense and serious, and yet loving and gentle. “I also have nightmares, your son is too kind and refuses to let me suffer from them, so he crawls into my bed every night when I have them.” He tears his gaze away from me attempting to hid his smile and leaving the room without another word.

 

              To anyone else in the entire universe these words would only mean what they said, but to me I could see the heaviness behind them, the thankfulness and the fondness and the emotion that Mikleo rarely let spill.

 

              I dare say I saw love.

 

              I turn to my mom, “See? I told you he’s a sweetheart,” she looks shocked, as if she’s not entirely sure how to take the information she was just given. Then her gaze softens, and she pats my thigh before beginning to take her own plates.

 

              “You always did have good taste.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bless Sorey's mom.
> 
> This is how I always saw her in my head, since we never really see a clear shot of her in the game.
> 
> If there are any typos (there are let's be real here) please point them out! I was on a serious time crunch so this may be a mess I'm not really sure. As always I love comments, like a lot. Like I yell when I see one they make me happy.


	11. Shackles and Nightmares

              “It’s Sunday you don’t have work over the weekends remember? _Sleep.”_ I say as I slam Mikleo back into the bed as he struggles to get up.

 

              “I won’t be able to go back to sleep anyway Sorey,” he whines as he attempts to roll off the bed, which is easily stopped by me grabbing his shirt.

 

              “I have never met someone who actually likes getting up early in the morning,” I sigh, dragging him closer to me. He snorts in response but cooperates by pushing himself into my chest and leaning into me whilst allowing me to slip my legs in-between his.

 

              “Says the person who has unnatural amounts of energy at like, four AM,” He mumbles, burying his face into the mattress. “Your moms here now Sorey we should really get up,” he whines again, but makes no move to change his comfortable position.

 

              I’m not quite sure when our relationship became more than friends, but at some point the lines began to blur. Neither of us make moves, neither of us say “I love you” nor use pet names, it’s simply a mutual understanding that we mean far too much to each other to just be considered friends. And at the moment neither of us feel the need to rush anything, slap a label on our relationship or do any particularly couple-y things. We just _are._

“I only like getting up when something exciting is happening,” I counter. Mikleo kicks my leg in response, I flinch and pinch the skin around his collar bone. He turns over to glare at me, which isn’t very effective. I find myself aghast by him for the one thousandth time since I knew him, for simply his supernatural beauty. The sun is filtering through the window and making his hair glow in that unnatural way it sometimes does, and his eyes are glittering in the light. His eyes, which from the very moment I met him I thought were as beautiful as the most gorgeous jewels, have only gotten prettier as they seem to keep filling with more and more emotion and purpose.

 

              “Mikleo, how many people have told you you’re beautiful?” His eyes widen and I watch with pleasure as a blush takes over his entire pale face, I giggle as he flips himself back over with unnatural speed and very little grace to hide his red face.

 

              “P-plenty…” He stutters, face muffled by his hands. A fond smile inches over my mouth, and there’s a long pause as he slowly removes his hands from his face, “No one says it with any emotion like you do though…” His voice is barely a whisper, but it’s not shy like a moment before. Simply in thought. I sit halfway up, twisting my body while my legs are still folded and planting a hand on either side of him, looking down at him in order to read his expression. Its calm, but the second he catches my eye his face bursts back into flames. Mikleo takes advantage of my position and slips from under me and rolls out of bed.

             

              I’m about to open my mouth and start another bickering match when the doorbell rings, and then is pressed several more times.

 

              _“It’s too fucking early for this.”_ Mikleo grumbles, throwing his hair up into a messy bun and trudging out of the room, presumably towards the front door. I roll out of bed in suit, immediately cold without the warmth of the covers, or Mikleo.

 

              “Mickey-Boy!” I arrive just into to hear and see Zaveid bellow. He then attempts to grab Mikleo, which is promptly stopped by Mikleo once again kicking him in the back of the knees and forcing the much larger man into a kneeling position. “Owe, owe owe I surrender!” Zaveid yelps, and Mikleo takes his heal out of his back.

 

              “What are you all doing here?” I question from where I stand, Zaveid looks to me, and so does the rest of the group, plus Rose and Alisha.

 

              “Your mom came home yesterday right? We wanted to see her!” Lailah chirps, Edna rolls her eyes and waltzes into the house like she owns the place.

 

              “Meebo I’m hungry make me food.”

 

              “Go to hell.”

 

              I sigh, “Mikleo what do we have to eat?”

 

              He pauses, narrows his eyes and then stands up straight and sighs. “I’ll make something,” he grumbles as he paces into the kitchen.

 

              “Sorry but I really don’t understand that guy at all,” Zaveid deadpans, frowning.

 

              “He’s actually really sweet, I swear.” I sit down on the couch, my previous sentence gaining me a couple of raised eyebrows. “My mom is still asleep but you all are welcome to sit down. Also Rose and Alisha, what are you doing here?”

 

              “They somehow became part of the group, don’t ask me how,” Enda snorts.

 

              “We also thought we’d explain some stuff to your mom, and we have some questions for Mikleo,” Rose waves her hand and takes the invitation to sit down.

 

              “Oh, what do you need?” Mikleo suddenly reappears, placing blueberry pancakes in front of Edna and I. Edna raises an eyebrow in surprise as Mikleo sits down with his tea. “They’re leftovers, sorry.”

 

              “Still tastes good!” I mumble, my mouth already full of pancakes, Mikleo crinkles his nose at my appalling manners before turning back towards Rose, Alisha now sitting down gracefully beside her.

 

              “What did you want to ask?” Mikleo repeated, Rose dug around in her pocket briefly before pulling out a picture of an old run down house from her pocket.

 

              “Those two murders you told us about visited here recently. The walls are covered in that code written in blood. You probably don’t know anything but-“

 

              “It’s a torture house.” Mikleo’s voice is emotionally strained enough I whip around to stare at him. His hand is covering his mouth, his face even paler than usual. His eyes are filled to the brim with the same haunting fear he has after some of his nightmares. “I’ll tell you right now there’s no way they went there of their own free will-“ Mikleo chokes, and his shoulders begin to shake. I reach out for him but find myself unable to touch his terrified form. He turns away and looks down at nothing in particular, “Depending on their mental states the murders are either going to stop completely or have a very dramatic increase in numbers, and gore.” Mikleo looks back up, eyes purposefully avoiding the picture and instead looking at Rose’s face. He’s biting down on his gloved thumb painfully hard, and I grab his wrist and tug on it gently as a hint for him to _please let go._ He stares at me, eyes brimming with more emotions that I can understand before releasing his jaw and instead grabbing my hand tightly, and pulling it into his lap.

 

              “What else do you know about this plac-“ Rose starts, but Mikleo let’s go of my hand and simply walks out of the room completely, his steps far too urgent.

 

              “Jee what’s up with him…” Rose mumbles under her breath. I stare at the doorway Mikleo had just exited through. _And just when I thought I was beginning to get him._

 

              “I don’t know, but he doesn’t get upset like that over nothing. Mikleo has good control over his emotions he doesn’t usually show them like that…” I begin to mumble and I stand up, pacing the same path Mikleo had moments before, completely forgetting about the pancakes and my friends.

 

* * *

 

 

              “Mikleo…” I mumble softly as I creek open the door. I promptly see medal flash in front of my face. Catching it, I then look into my hands to find a switch blade, closed of course. I stare at it for a long moment before turning back to Mikleo, my eyes wide.

 

              “Don’t let me have it or I’ll hurt myself.” He deadpans.

 

              “Mikle-“ I run up to the man, placing the blade down on the bedside table in crawling to sit in front of him in bed. His face his buried in his knees, but I don’t need to see it to know it’s etched with fear. His shoulders are shaking and his feet are curled harshly into the mattress. One of his gloves his lying beside him and he’s rubbing a long fingernail back and forth over his wrist. I grab his bare hand tug it away, holding it and keeping it for myself.

 

              “What just happened?” My voice shakes, no matter how strong I try to keep it. It’s full of pity, pity I believe he would usually be angry at me for having. After all, no one likes to be pitied.

 

              “I’ve been to that place several time before.” I hear him swallow thickly and he looks up, just his frightened eyes peering over his knees. “I don’t want to remember,” he chokes and flinches, burying himself further into the pillow behind him and shifting uncomfortably. It takes a moment for my mind to piece things together before my eyes widen, and I grab his cheeks and yank his face upwards with more force than necessary. He flinches, looking slightly hurt and further frightened, if that’s at all possible.

 

              “What happened?” I growl, his eyes widen at the sound of my voice.

 

              _Who hurt you?_

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he mumbles, attempting to look anywhere but at me. I purse my lips so that they turn into a white line.

 

              “Mikleo-“

 

              “Sorey I really don’t feel like dissolving into a crying and screaming fit with other people in the house, please don’t make me talk about it.” His voice is firm now, even with is shoulders still shaking. I flinch, and stare at his even tenser form for a second before taking a breath, attempting to rein in my emotions.

 

              “Sorry,” I mumble back, gently coaxing his face back to center to look at me. I push his bangs up and press a kiss to the green jewel in the center of his forehead. He lets out a small squeak of surprise and embarrassment, and I pull back, fixing his bangs and caressing his cheek. “You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.” His gaze softens a bit, some of the fear in it seeming to relax. He brings his ungloved hand up to my hand on his cheek and intertwines it, pressing his face further into my hand and making a hum of something like agreement. His eyes are fond now, but still a bit distant. I let out a sigh of relief anyway, placing another kiss on his other cheek and enjoying the purely embarrassed squeak I get out of it. I giggle and he pouts, taking his hand off my own to rub the spot I kissed.

 

              “Want to go back? The longer we stay here the more Edna’s going to tease you,” I prod. Mikleo pouts and slides back out of bed before wandering into the bathroom to grab a hairbrush to take with him, his hair still being throw up half hazardly, even if I find it personally very adorable. As I watch him walk over two the doorway I weight my options very briefly before impulsively sliding off the bed and crossing the floor quickly to scoop up the smaller man bridal style.

 

              There is a prompt squeal and a “P-put me down!” which is ignored as waltz proudly into the living room, which my mother is now sitting in also. We are earned some stares, but I continue and plop Mikleo down on the couch, his face now officially a deep scarlet.

 

              “Sorey, I hate you.” He murmurs under his breath, I laugh and elbow him in the side.

 

              “Sure you do, _Princess-_ owe!” A sharp pain ripples through my ribs and I look down to find an elbow buried in them, and violet eyes giving me a terrifying glare. He takes his elbow away and pulls his hair down.

 

              “Now, where were we?” He continues as if the last fifteen minutes did not happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spill your past already Mikleo god dammit (says the author who literally has the power to tell you everything:)))))
> 
> Also, update: this fic has 78 pages. I am dead. What am I doing with my life?
> 
> This is v short. The end is fluff. You're welcome.
> 
> I love comments incase you weren't aware by now tysmm for readingggg

**Author's Note:**

> *crawls back into hole*


End file.
